Opaque
What is that hazy
image in the mirror,
that shapeless mass,
just beyond the blurred reflection?
A murky shadow
it seems;
neither live, nor dead
neither here, nor there
neither good, nor bad
To others it's so clear,
as clear as crystal;
solid,
distinct, polished
and beautiful,
to their eyes
But to his eyes,
it's vague and
unformed,
unfinished,
unclear
and frightening
to contemplate
If the eyes are truly
the window to the soul,
can one's reflection
be the manifestation
of their true state,
or are one's reflections
just opaque projections
of the mind?
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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