Midnight Mirror

Mirror at midnight 

with shadowed reflection 

like a phantasmal pond 

and demonic intention.


Shining and spectral, it glints like a ghost 

winking like a wraith with hope- 

fingers to the glass; elope! 

Through the looking glass we go. 


We'll peruse 'round the parallels, 

see the mountains all reversed, 

glimpse a heaven that is hell 

see the blessed be the cursed. 


There's humor that is harrowing, 

in the knowing of the aftermaths 

of every thing turned inside out 

our opposites will make us laugh. 


And when morning touches our reality, 

we'll have to release a fond cordiality, 

let go of ghosts and shadows, lo, 

back to our reflections now.


  • Brycycle

    Really enjoyed reading this poem :D

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