Oh mirror, my dearest mirror.
Tell me of that tale once more,
Please?

"..." Says the filth-stained mirror,
Looking back at me with looks of utter
Distain.

Oh mirror, my beloved mirror.
Show me of that world you say,
Please?

"..." Says the gem-socketed mirror,
A silent judging, I can tell, and
Distaste.

Oh mirror, my enamored mirror.
Show me of those faces you shined,
Please!

"..." Says the gleaming mirror,
With an attitude akin to another,
Ingrate.

It comes without warning, like a storm or a tornado.
A force of nature, it is; an exception, it is.
Peer through that slit, you will, and you will find a nothingness:
The sheer will of the absurd...
The grandeur of the Night...
The will of the Other...
The calling from that world beyond...
But I implore thee: do not look in, for the hatchling is yet unformed,
It requires time, patience, and a careful nurturing,
But not from you.

What happens when an egg does not hatch?
It shakes and quakes, but its power can't match.
What happens when the shell does not break?
The child cries and weeps, of the worlds it cannot make.