You Look In The Mirror0
A sight of such profound magnitude that it paralyzes you to the core.
You have seen the one thing that is real in an ocean of unreality, and the realization petrifies you. You have seen the face of your Self. Your truth. You know it, but you refuse to know it.
Averting your eyes from the possibility, the part of you that grasps for control obscures the reflection with a veil of doubt and disbelief.
But you cannot be hidden, only distracted from seeing.
You carry your pain in a locket, gold plate turned to brass.
You don’t remember where it came from; it seems that it has always been with you. Did you choose it for yourself, or was it given to you? You cannot recall. Even as you dream of the figure in the mirror, you finger the chain around your neck to remind yourself that it’s still firmly clasped.
From time to time you crawl inside. It’s small in there; dark.
You become entranced by the desiccated phantoms it holds. Their shadows grow long against the wall, reconstituted by your fears. They whisper saccharine chants of bitter solace, reminding you that you are nothing without them. Reminding you that you are nothing.
The soul shrinks to accommodate itself to the locket’s tight dimensions.
You momentarily forget that this is but one tiny and insignificant space among an infinity of spaces. Immeasurable spaces where new life, new experiences, new feelings can be created in any shape you desire, waiting to unfurl before you like a sheet of pure white light.
Yet the imprint of the mirror image remains, flickering across closed eyelids, illuminating the darkness. Clean and glittering and untarnished by the stain of history or limitation.
From somewhere within the mirror calls to you, a flowing river of quicksilver moving through eternity to reveal all that you are.
Your resistance is immolated by the refracted brilliance. Eyes filled with light, you decide to decide and step into the stream.