The Blueprint

Just give me a mirror and some time

some time to think.

To wonder why sometimes I see jubilation

staring back at me.

Yet other times the ugly face of judgment

reflects from behind the

window or mirror.

Give me a mirror and some time to think

about life and death.

To stare life in the face as it grapples with death,

in its rawest form.

And wonder if living and being will ever feel

right again,

ever feel normal.

A mirror and some time to think

about mirrors.

To question our fascination with light reflecting

from the surface.

The person we see, not ourselves,

but a copy,

a ghost.

It’s not a lesson I look for in a mirror,

or a window.

To see is to believe, so I try to believe

in myself.

But the person I see is a carbon copy

of who I really am.

An artist’s first sketch,

an outline.

And so maybe that’s why the only me that I believe in

is the lesser form.

The blueprint.