It is true that
A poet lives many lives.
Because,
In my mind
I have been living
Three separate lives
Simultaneously
Interrogating  the presence of
My individual realization,

In the mirror I am
This voodoo man
That weaves a spell
Turning heaven into hell,
Like the Wild Wild West
Pain, sorrow are his paths
Where He cries everyone’s tears
A vulnerability that’s too real,
His collective realization ,

In the mirror I am
this understanding man
Who lingers in a pathway
That offers solace
A momentarily reprieve
From all that ails him
Where laughter still comes,
My higher realization ,

Then again in the mirror
That man with the wings
Where I stay above all
Turns hell into heaven
And can make all pain disappear
Where the light remains lit
In the darkness that is mine,
Sweet magical man
With a magical heart.

This man
In the mirror all at once!