A poem

I think this is the culmination of my greatest work. I don't say that to be arrogant, but I think I've finally put to words what runs through my mind so often and I feel I can never convey. In any case, I like this, and I hope you will find some joy in it too.

Of Mirrors and Fates

I.

By gift unknown I was granted a glance in the mirror of all fate.

So I alone within room of black gazed before it and it did not smile back.

Three images upon me it bestowed,
like questions and wishes I never wished for.

And in the first we traveled ever so deep,
Memoria my shepherd, and I it's sheep.

We arrived at a home of bleak empty rooms
with walls of plain white
no decorations, no light
everything was hidden from the plainest of sight.

Empty I've said, and already I've lied.
In the center sat a boy,
no companion at his side.
No toys.
No trains.
Not a single video game.

But I don't think it mattered,
for not a frown was on his face

I think he knew not of sadness,
and surely not a happy trace,
for he played with such vigor
as he jumped and he tumbled.

He spread his arms and I swear he flew with a rumbling mutter.

I don't know how long we stayed,
most of all I didn't care.
I could have watched this perfect child live forever

And in the end, he even asked me to play.

But Memoria was harsh and the stipulations premade.

The past was the past
and would forever remain.

So away he took me from
the home of the lost child.

II.

Standing before the mirror once again
from behind the haze stepped a man
oh so familiar.

No need for description,
the reflection said it all.

Oh, how the bitterness had burned his eyes.
And upon his cheek was the lip-shaped stain,
A fickle fading star that would soon wash away.

I knew what had happened,
and I wept with embarrassment that made me ashamed
to call myself a man.

He spoke no words
and I none to him
But I knew what he was thinking,
until his bitter end.

I turned to Memoria,
with the same hateful nod.
Here I was done,
I demand to see the end.

III.

At last I was invited,
and I stepped inside
an empty mirror,
with a broken bridge leading to the other side.

Memoria smirked and laughed all at once:
' Well cross,' he so insisted,
'the answers you seek, they're no great mystery.
Or stay if you like,
afraid to know what lies near,
on the other side of this imaginary fear.
So many have stayed,
choosing to rot
rot
rot away.
You'll be of dust,
not even the need for a name.'

And without hesitation,
I sit upon the ground.

I close my mouth.

And never again make a sound.