Reflections in the Darkness
In a kingdom of whispers where darkness sings,
A merchant arrives with a mirror bright,
Carrying visions of far-off, glittering things—
A treasure to sell in the realm of inner light.
Blind souls, who feel the pulse of each dream,
Listen to stories woven in touch and sound;
They find no use in a glass that might beam
A fleeting, pale image, to which they are bound.
But soon the mirror transforms in their hands,
Becoming a symbol for introspection untold;
A silent companion in far-off lands,
Reflecting the spirit, not silver and gold.
The merchant departs, forever changed by their art,
Learning that true beauty glows from within the heart.