Dust on the mirror
I’d rather not wipe.
A faint smile across the glowing orbs echoes—
a different voice,
but the feeling and connection
aren’t far off.
The glowing reflection entombed,
a shroud of grief quiets the horizon
beyond the arc.
Unreachable to those poor in faith,
yet open to the soul
that can touch chains
as if they were only strings.
The undaunted saw unbelievers
as unremarkable—
blind to the great split
of two opposites.
Attracted to positive opposites,
yet negatively repelled
by joyful ridicule.
She reminded me of you:
the same smile,
the same white hair,
the same aged look—
yet never all too worse for it.
Beauty in its own sense,
existence true
even to its own fault.
May the pieces be at rest.
May peace be upon everyone else,
and upon you—
and I.
No comments:
Post a Comment