Reflections Un-fractured.

My mirror it mocks me daily
it is truly my worst critic,
as I mourn what was
the fairest of me all,
now just an effigy of what was...
now a rage filled sage
..…a cynic.

It shines on,
while I just grow dull,
the You in my You-th
has dissolved
into a simple Yo??
What the hell happened
to that dreamer who
spent hours gazing
beyond mirrors,
to a far more gleaming future?

It was there too when I first
became aware of what I was,
a toddler with blonde hair
and an impish grin to share
dancing for the silvered glass
in my pampers Devil may care!

It was there to taunt
when as a teen
those pimples came to haunt
my skin that once
gleamed pure and clean
with oily bumps obscene.

It was there when I
faced boot camp
and the lessons taught of war,
mocking what I thought immortal
into some less fragile core,
sharing scars I still abhor…..

It was there when I got married,
a scarecrow in a
grey, silk tux tux,
showing all of my uncertainty,
was the altar just a crutch
to ease the pain
of walking lonely
till it got to be too much?

It was there when I attended,
funerals for both my parents,
whispering that I too
would soon be boxed
like them, for death’s inherent.

It is there each morn
when I arise
and when I go to bed,
it no longer strokes my ego,
it exposes my frail flesh.
In lines that mar my aging head.

It will be there
in a nursing home,
when I brush the
few white strands
of what's left on my
threadbare skull cap ,
so much less a hopeful man,

Perhaps I'll place one
in my coffin,
full length in the lid
that seals me,
then when resurrection
comes to call
I can watch as it reveals me,

Into something incorruptible,
that no mirror can ever age,
then I'll smash it as I exit,
unleashing all my bottled rage,

Stepping free across
it's broken shards,
that no longer cut me deep,
rising proudly from my coffin
where I spent so long asleep.

Shaking off the dust of eons
as I soar to meet my maker,
in a paradise that
holds no mirrors,
all across its endless acres.

No need to see perfection,
recreated by the Master,
once again the
fairest of them all,
wearing wings of alabaster,

A mirror defines
what you have lost,
but in heaven you regain,
what earthly tolls
and aging costs,
forever youthful we'll remain.

Art~Whimsically Yours Studio
Matthew F. Blowers III