Standing up front
Watching the  eyes
Looking in depths
Deep inside,
Finding meaning
As to nothing ,
Exploring with hope
Core to those eyes ,
Found the reflection-
The reflection of mine.

The strange curious eyes
Of mine watching the eye
To those of mine and
so to ME
Exploring the self  into the
Core ,
Like a boat amidst
the sea .
I asked the mirror what do u reveal
"In response it just reflected me" .

The shadow in the mirror reminds me not of myself but of my father.
He stands behind my mother’s chair like an advisor to the queen.
He does not poison her mind or plan treason against her throne.
Her tyranny extends to the invisible shackles on his long-broken mind.

The ghost in the mirror reminds me not of myself but of my brother.
Though he has died, he never passed on to the better place he deserves.
His phantom lingers in my mind, trying to reach out and touch this plane.
He can’t feel the tender dew on the soft grass unless he uses my hands.

The witch in the mirror reminds me not of myself but of my sister.
Though she has left the inner coven, she is still trapped under her oath.
Her spells of cord-cutting and separation can only do so much against it.
As her mistress sleeps, her work to free herself from her bond does not stop.

The monster in the mirror reminds me not of myself but of my mother.
She controls our movements like a puppet on a string, never stopping.
There is no freedom to reign over my or my family’s actions but hers.
Her little marionettes may never break free from the suffering they endure.

Art is a lesson for both its creator and those who admire it.
With every soft brushstroke, carefully selected synonym,
or drawn out note, the artist learns a new way to create,
a new way to evoke emotion from others by ripping it
straight out of their own chest. An artist can do this with
a graceful combination of ease and effort. Those who see
the canvas, read the pages, or listen to the melody, are only
able to grasp the pieces of the pain that are reflected within
their own souls. Inside, we are all fragments of the same
shattered mirror. Its glass once reflected only the face of God,
but now it reflects parts of us. Does it still show God’s visage?

Are we God’s art? Were we a lesson for the all-knowing? Does
even our creator learn from our mistakes, flaws, imperfections?

I describe myself,

in characters in whom you --


recognise yourself!

When we sat at that table
the one by the sea and the night
I looked up and caught your eyes
I caught their light full beam
I found a reflection
spiegel im spiegel
mirror in mirror
promising an unending
taking me further
than I had planned.

I'm still transported.

A daze descends, my bearings lost,
Trapped in the dark, a heavy cost.
I call out, a muffled echo’s sound,
Dampened and lost, no solace found.

A flicker of light, a guiding gleam,
Through the looking glass, a surreal scene.
I see myself, yet not the same,
My love departs, a fading flame.

Not with me, but one unknown,
A shattered glass, a world overthrown.
I chase my heart, a desperate quest,
A mirrored maze, a twisted test.

Within the room, illusions hide,
My love, a phantom, a fragile guide.
Many pretend, a false disguise,
Yet only one, beneath my eyes.

Unknown the truth, I cannot see,
My true love lost, eternally.
I called out, a silent plea,
No echo, no response, just me.

The rabbit hole, an endless chase,
A deeper dive, a hopeless race.
Her image lingers, a fading light,
I reach out, yet grasp the night.

I trust her heart, a foolish leap,
My mind confused, my spirit deep.
Duped once before, my trust now torn,
I understand, foreverlorn.

Lost in the dark, a prisoner’s plight,
Trapped in my mind, a haunting night.
On the other side, a dream untold,
Lost in the labyrinth, forever bold.

He is her mirror,
The one she stands before
Whether things are good or bad.
Until she walks away,
She doesn’t understand
The cracks spreading
Across her face,
Ignoring the obvious
She applies more makeup.
Though she’s gone,
Her presence lingers,
Soon to follow.

In front of her mirror,
She could speak as freely
As she wanted,
Be seen for who she is.
In front of family and friends,
She’s quiet,
Acting out of appearance,
Ignoring the space, she thought
Was empty.

She doesn’t think about it
Until a friend brings it up.
Talking about her own love life,
A place she feels secure.
Her friend’s smile, big and bright,
While she speaks.
She thinks of him,
Her mirror.
No matter how bad she feels.
He finds a way
To make her feel better.
If something is off,
He’s quick to point it out.
He’s always there when
She needs him.
She never had to speak
To be seen when he was around.
The only place she only felt whole.
The cracks on her face shows

No screams today,
Missed calls from the void.

My organs sleep,
Still in place.

I walked dark streets
Last night,
But happy.

So today I hug
These knees,
Dislocated shoulders.

Today I love you,
I love this body,
Toy of the cosmos.

Thinking and writing
and writing about thinking
While sitting and thinking  
And thinking while sitting
about the feelings
(I feel)
when sinking in the seeking.