Ode to the Mirror

Look through the mirror,
at oblivion.
At crystals formed in
vernal pools of Lethe.

It disremembers
all innuendo.
Every lilt serene
neither hears nor dreams.

If a face appears
upon lucent front
of fair, pensive glass,
pretense solemn fades.

This double has no eyes,
but frigid rocky core.


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Mayan, in the year 442 AF.