In the Mirrored Frame

I have this ornate mirrored frame each time I look, it's just the same, in it is this man again, again. He talks for years through this frame. A divide that is so plain, yet his eyes remain the same. He knows nothing as I exclaim, futilely he seeks to explain - again, again his lone refrain. One day I went into the frame to see if anything was to gain... reveals a world somewhat insane. One tries to tap the looking glass in hoping that some magic will pass - you'll only see a vast crevasse. A new tack, a novel kind: to touch his stare with my mind. What deep reality might I find? Inside is staying just the same seems this world's only secret aim - keeping all the troubles tame. Peering out at those who worry, he says there's too much hurry, right and wrong are always blurry. Inside the frame's prime allure is that everything is for sure, no fear that you won't endure. This I wished to rearrange, inside I tried to make a change: he gazed out at me...so strange. He asks me things as if I know afraid that his true self will show, allows me no safe place to go. The mirror world begged inspection, saw past people of my affection - another mirror had no reflection. I walked away, all around, everything the same, so I found - missed was thought greatly profound. What grand fantasy did I uncover - would I mistake us for each other? Step out of your frame, then discover. 8/17/19