The mirror in the room

holds me quite tightly

within its glassy memory.

Standing aside from its stare

I know what its thoughts are.

Dreaming of a reflection,

reflecting on a dream.

Still, but still in motion,

an opposite movement

a trick of the eye,

thoughts backward,

it emulates itself,

and echoes all before it.

Patiently waiting for its time

to cast a light back to the world.

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