I stand before a mirror,
And yet what I see terrifies me.
I wore a cloak of hatred,
A polluted vine tree.
I took a few steps backward;
Even so, my reflection stayed still.
Was it merely my reverie,
Or perhaps it had a profound will?
I shattered the mirror,
Perhaps afraid of my own.
“Look what I have become”—
Better left unknown.
As I became the victim of aurora,
My shadow emerged bit by bit.
It took a monstrous form—
Mayhap buried in my shallow pit.
It wasn’t people I feared,
But something grown within, left undone.
I shall resent my own being,
For I was the thing that was never gone.
Meet me in the sacred land,
I will surely guide you there,
I will gently take your hand
As we bid our last farewell.