Sunday, April 17, 2011


In my house of mirrors.
I stride and glide throughout its corridors
Followed by an accusing glance on every wall
Each perspective weighing on my silhouette a new judgement
As each step brings nigh the meeting with my own shadow
The reflections sing and dance and hop out of harmony
Each one to its own fit of madness or epiphany
But I willingly proceed on to ignoring the circus
A soft, salty breeze slipping through my heels
As the walking on continues

Surrounded but alone
Ridiculously self-aware, as if the walls didn't remind me all along
Remaining hidden from them, still
Fiercely fearful of the outside view
It may be said it is barely surviving in here
In my house of mirrors

The distortions held dear will somehow keep me company
Even if they laugh or scream in waves of pent-up anger at my naked face
In the sane confusion of these years, kept will be the pace
The pain of a fallen bird may be multiplied in such territory, but at a price fair enough if it is to see
The rising flight of victory, again
Watch I will the whole phenomenon, as grounded as ever
And as the walking on continues.