Mirror, Mirror

written by Eric Schiller
copyright Eric Schiller
3/24/2000

Floating above, looking down,
Free from old hassles, and happy to be there.
Below me something cold and flat,
Horribly offensive, disturbing, and deeply rooted as that.

A single word escapes, and breaks my float. . .
The root is tied to my own!
Offensive though the object may be, I must not judge,
Although cold and flat, it is also reflective.
It's a mirror of what once was me.

Time moves on, and more of the mirror is exposed,
More glimpses of myself do I see.
Painful is the new reality,
For though I know I've changed,
The old life is shown to me again.

The mirror is pushed by nearby hands,
Molded, shifted, pulled towards the dark.
I see it, and want to stop it, (because I've come from the dark)
But as I pull, I wonder if I'm strong enough.
This is no thoughtless object, but a human being,
Who must choose to be pulled in or out.

This is the battle I must now face:
Stand by, and watch painfully,
Jump in and vicariously mold the mirror to be exactly myself,
Or, pull a bit, hope it trusts my touch, and molds on its own accord.
Hardest of all is the third, but the other two. . .
Will break the mirror.
So, out reaches my hand. . .