Reflection

That reflection has a name
not unique, but worldly
they could all be the same

That reflection has a mind
soft as old ashen oak
mechanically complex
searching for a sign

That reflection looks cryptonic
the dark baleful eyes
perplexed by emotions
no look of grace upon it

Soft young features
like a baby lamb
yet invisible lines
form deep heavy grooves
painfully absolute.

Some of those lines were already there,
truthful wrinkles already laid bare.

That reflection has a soul
it's there
for anyone to see
to know it as a whole

That reflection has a heart
masterfully made
with jagged, ragged edges
a smooth pearly top
mysteriously beautiful like jade
all the seams still show
healing slow, if at all
it's burning light still warms and glows
soothing others' souls

That reflection is just a reflection
not real by any means
where does that reflection go?
its ghost escapes reality
its never the same reflection
never the same abstraction
its a failure with no absolute attraction

Where does that reflection go?
everyday a new creation
what was worked on yesterday
a mask for another day
never the same
with no one to blame

That reflection is not me
it's what others percieve
If a blind man could see me
I wonder what he'd see

That reflection is a tool
materialized by nothing
a soul matched by heaven
left to toil here searching.