In a Mirror Dimly
In a mirror dimly
The image thou wilt see
Is a trick of the eye,
Which clouds reality.
Thy soul is lost inside
This specious looking glass.
Such misplaced vanity,
In time will surely pass.
For time will have its day,
And all shall feel it stir.
An affliction bereft
Of remedy or cure.
If soul lies not within
Thy woeful withered husk,
What shall remain of thee
When daylight turns to dusk?
The last sight thou wilt see,
As thine eyes meet grimly,
Is thy true reflection,
In a mirror dimly.
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