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Nov 2016
It was said that anything could change in a blink of an eye
That life could evolve, why not give it a try?
An average human being blinks twenty-three thousand and forty times a day.
That could result to twenty-three thousand and forty revolutions by the way.

So I started to stare at the mirror, to wonder and think.
Why not observe and see what’d happen if I blinked.
Would my life revolve to the way I wanted it to be?
Would I become like the celebrities and the people I conceived?

I tried blinking once. Not a single thing has changed.
I’m still looking at the person that I’ve always despised.
Whose life can never, and I mean ever be arranged.
The kid who always ends up crying and mortified.

I tried blinking again. For the second time.
I realise how ugly I am. How cringeworthy my face is.
If there’s a scale, I would be zero for attractive basis.
No offense(If I’d offend myself), I look like I’d commit a crime.

For the third time, I blinked again.
Veins started to grow, giving in to the pain of my complains.
Fogs started to cover my ugly reflection.
The thorns injected me with doses that affected my complexion.

I started to feel weak. I started to hold on to the wall.
I wished that this could stop in a blink.
The mirror started to be covered with ink.
I’ve always learned to hold back for the fear that I’d fall.

For the fourth time, I blinked.
The mirror started to have cracks. I tried to stop it.
My blood dripped from it like an ink.
It made a shape that looks like a target.

I blinked again. Fifth, sixth, seventh to the twenty-three thousand and thirty-fifth time.
I blinked again. It’s all the same, each time it happens it just gets worse.
I blinked again. Losing all the words in my head. Losing the letters to build a rhyme.
I blinked again. I started to feel numb, realising that nothing really mattered.

I stared at the broken mirror. Realising each edges.
I’ve never really looked “human" in a broken mirror.
I remembered Him who payed for my wages.
At that moment, despite of the broken mirror, I started to see clearer.

I closed my eyes. Longer than what a blink should be.
I felt His touch. His healing, running through my veins.
I felt him. And his name is Love, who broke all my chains.
For the first time, with closed eyes, I could see.

For the last time, for the twenty-three thousand and fortieth time.
I blinked, staring at the mirror. The cracks started to disappear.
I smirked and felt the change. The change that I’m now whole with the Great I Am.
Nothing more, nothing less. It’s the love of Love I’d only fear.
This piece is meant to be spoken.
Kurt Christian B Tubera
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