Poetry is a draped Mirror

Poetry is a draped mirror

Shadows contact its percale frequently

Putting on ostensibly nasty clothes

They move on.

Yet , creatures glimpse the purest glass

Charmed , notice has been initiated …

Creatures  see themsleves through the glass

And as a firstborn , staring in the stare

Of its own eyes , get scared.

Creatures see themsleves through the glass

And as a beast , staring in the stare

Of its own eyes , break glass into shivers.

Creatures see themsleves through the glass

And as a being , staring in the stare

Of its own eyes, they meet themsleves .

Beings saw themselves through the glass

And as these beings , stared into the stare

Of their own eyes , try on different mirrors.

Every mirror tells the truth.

Truth is a seed , sowed beneath

Of our souls , toiling to blossom.

Firstborns are green

Tenderfoot from the shadows

They stare the outlandish truth.

Beasts are red

Versed into violence

They stare the outraging outlandish truth.

Beings are silver

Deep and infinite

They stare their knowledge.

Shadows are dark

Deep and liquid

If they stared , their truth would be consumed.

~

Never to be stared

~

Bakers are white

They bake sand of all colours

Constructing our truths.

Magnus Peccator ,Άμον Φ.