A mirror in a darkened room
with only fleeting bits of light,
has only gloomy shadows
to reflect, to answer, to return.
One comes before the mirror
full of light.
The mirror, in full brilliance then,
returns the precious gift.
We all are mirrors of a sort.
Some sharp and clear.
Others rather dark.
Some flawed with grief
or pain too great to bear.
But, in our way, we all reflect
what stands before us.
So then, when you gaze into
my glass,
my face,
my eyes,
my heart,
the image there is true.
You see yourself.
For I must reflect, answer and
return your precious gift to me
and dread the day you take your light
away.
