The girl in the looking glass...

THE GIRL IN THE LOOKING GLASS...

And to think that I

ever dreamt of knowing myself;

It seems such a wild fantasy,

As I gaze at the girl

who looks back at me

through the looking glass,

and I wonder -

is that me?

It isn't hard after all,

to believe that she and I

are the same -

for if she be imprisoned

inside the looking glass,

so am I, outside it...

Caught in a web

of countless questions,

veiled - behind a thousand knots;

Struggling against chains

I bound around me...

And then I wonder -

Is this not

what life is about?

One does live

amidst a plethora of questions -

some with answers,

and some without...

If one is forever

on a quest for answers,

when does one really live?

How does one savour

the many flavours of life?

When does one delight

in its many hues?

Chains can be broken;

And life goes on...

Formless, aimless,

if not truly lived -

An unfinished story,

A fragmented soul...

So be lived it must,

for what is existence

if not realised?

What is music

if not felt?

And so the girl in the looking glass,

is not so much me

as a reflection of life -

seen through my eyes,

learnt from,

and truly lived...