WITHIN THE MIRROR

He stares at me with sunken eyes,
Barely open,
My image within the mirror,
He seems lost,
Without a purpose,
Blindly following
As I lead him,
Writing his destiny,
His fate tied with mine
In an inevitable bond.

Does he laugh
When life plays its jokes on me,
And thus him,
Or are the subtleties lost
In the concave curve,
Perhaps it is the opposite,
And I am the one lost,
A slave to his actions.

Is there a world
Beyond this shimmering silver screen,
Where tales of my life are scripted,
And delivered through this apparition,
Forcing me to move
As he shifts slightly,
Why do I retreat from the mirror
When he moves away?

Does he have the same thoughts,
Wishing he could shake my hand,
Feel the warmth,
Can he understand life,
Does the ocean whisper in his ears,
Are we the same,
Where is the original me,
Who is the translation,
Am I lost?

~ Rahul Misra ~

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