Mirror

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Mirror

(c) 2011 by Tom King

By beholding we become changed,
 Like unto like, image unto image.
The places into which we gaze, dark or light
 Leave marks upon our mortal souls.

Should we focus on the evil that men do,
 Talk about it, think about it,
Brood the long and murky days and nights.
 Surely we shall bid them slip inside our hearts.

Then, one day waking, putting on the day's face
 We look into the mirror and find in it,
All that we despised; all that gave us pain
 Is looking back at us, a wicked smile upon its lips.



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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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twayneking’s Poems (38)

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