Nothing to See
Jan 20 2024
Standing back
without my glasses
I look half my age.
Low light flatters me.
The mirror lies.
A simple technology;
silvered backing
on clear glass
flat against the wall.
Or gazing into still water
at the edge of the pond
when the sun is right.
Toss in a rock, and you disappear,
a funhouse mirror
rippling out.
We see what we expect
reflected back.
Or perhaps, experts at denial
what we want to see.
After a death
the mirrors are covered
or turned to face the wall.
Otherwise, you might look in
and see nothing at all.
And does modesty not becomes us
when facing mortality,
is pride not our fall?
Or mirrors facing mirrors
and standing in-between.
Where your reflection recedes,
infinite iterations
shrinking away
until there's nothing left to see.
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