Wednesday, September 2, 2015

The mirror in the woodshed

Somewhere out in the Lost Woods stands a woodshed, all alone covered in brambles and vines, hidden away from prying eyes. It has stood there since forever and will stand there till the end of time. No paths search for it, no roads come near it. Only the wild and lost ever find it.

I would like to tell you that it’s empty but it’s not. It holds the most fearful object ever encountered; a soul’s mirror. It’s a tiny little sliver of glass broken from a great big mirror lying on the dirt floor. Yet one glance of it’s shiny surface can destroy you.

For within the reflection all is brought clear; the shattered become whole, the whole become broken, the child grows, the old become young, the dead live and living die. Nothing stays the same. For the mirrors shows us as we see ourselves as we are, as we can become, as we want to be.

Somewhere in the Lost Dark I cradle a shard of glass searching, searching searching for Me.