Mirror, mirror on the wall,
is it late for me to know,
who am I, and where’s my voice?
A mosaic put together from the remains of alien emotions and thoughts,
is any of that mine in this vortex of truths and lies?
Do we ever get to know the truth about it all?
Am I —
All the words I read, and all the songs I sang —
The Paramount of emotion and thought,
Sci-fi for all that wanted more —
All the unspoken lessons that my teacher never taught,
The plus and minus of every doubt —
Chicory to coffee, water to scotch,
Darkness to light, rain to sun —
or is it other way around?
Unique patterns of my hue — a gift of heritage in blood and soul.
Lessons of old, prejudice and gold, glitter and stars, mud and intuition on how to survive
The reason offered no answers to ease the struggle, and heart was always too wild to battle.
What do you do when all the paths you take, turn into an dead end?
There’s a path no one told me about, the one that leads to the source — my inner voice
It’s hard, for there is no map or SatNav to guide one to that place.
The roads are often hard, and muddy, full of weeds, trees, and caves.
The beauty and ugliness all in one notorious fall —
demons and angels together in one glorious choir.
The secrets revealed will hold power for one’s wings to grow.
But to live with the disappointment that revelation brings,
one will have to bear on one’s own.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
where’s the path to my inner voice?