Post by Caylus Ark on Apr 12, 2017 15:24:53 GMT
The Girl In The Mirror
There once lived a girl – a sensitive girl,
And in this girl’s world, everything screamed.
The sounds sent her rushing into rooms with locked doors;
She thought, “whatever will I do with all of this yelling?
How might I quell the swelling in my skull?”
“I can help you, little girl…” a slow simmering voice
answered her thoughts, a hungry snake hiss –
Startled, the girl whips around –
Staring back at her in the mirror, she saw “herself” there
A sharp-toothed shadow grinning, spitting image –
but twisted.
“Isn’t this what you wanted all along?” Purrs Shadow-girl?
Now All the walls jumbled and All the walls stirred –
Reflections –
Reflections –
Reflections of her.
Silver mirrors, shine like windows
Selves on shelves and ceilings reaching –
Selves underneath her feet
standing, weakly
(but where are the doors?).
“I’m all numb now. Tingling,” remarks Shadow-her;
relief slipping watery into a sea of false warmth
“But I can’t see!” shrieks the girl in retort
And her shadow simply whispers:
“Submerge,”
And the little room of mirrors dives deep down,
Taking all the Hers,
Beneath the Sea of Selves.
Swirling inside the waves, she distorts.
No longer remembers, to begin with, whether,
she had been a person, or –
just the reflection
of an alternate her.
World of mirrors;
Room with no doors.
Injecting indifference, calculated missive
in a canvas of white emptiness.
The morphine tide comes alive to drink the sick away
Obliteration is an avalanche rushing at her throat
A Tsunami, crashing down upon consciousness, breaking every fragment
lingering, suspended against the void,
these remnants of “her”.
“And now … quiet” –
they speak softly in unison, shadow and girl.
Far beyond the boundary,
Dividing mirrors from reality,
The girl becomes the destroyer of her.
And if only it had not been for that hymn in her blood,
This would have been something more somber.
For her blood begun humming in the lifeless abyss,
and slowly becoming louder, rang out, singing of a starry promise,
Singing of candles and blushing moons,
a universe without mirrors and clocks,
undominated hierophants nominate melodies,
and obsessed with this sanctuary
her atoms conspire to meet, swimming in the endless nothing
converging upward with dynamite force,
pulling her skin away from the roaring water of depths,
towards this new surface, unexplored vector.
“Open your eyes,”
And she’s not in the mirror now,
No reflections gazing back at her,
The girl in the Mirror is no more,
by now “Herself” emerged.
For she is the shadow,
and she is the door,
and she is this new unspoken shore –
every particle a compartment praising her,
“Be Whole,
Be Whole”
And she is outside a home (and it’s her home) –
And she is running towards the door –
And she trips, stumbles towards floor –
catches herself before hitting the pavement,
Her nose five inches from the concrete below.
On the ground, pressing up, she contorts,
arising, beaming, basking
in her phoenix glow, noticing the welcome mat outside the front door
says,
“Hello”,
and she finds a key underneath, engraved with : “Her’s”
And somehow she knows it’s something which has never existed before.
The shadow,
The creator,
The goddess,
This girl.
There once lived a girl – a sensitive girl,
And in this girl’s world, everything screamed.
The sounds sent her rushing into rooms with locked doors;
She thought, “whatever will I do with all of this yelling?
How might I quell the swelling in my skull?”
“I can help you, little girl…” a slow simmering voice
answered her thoughts, a hungry snake hiss –
Startled, the girl whips around –
Staring back at her in the mirror, she saw “herself” there
A sharp-toothed shadow grinning, spitting image –
but twisted.
“Isn’t this what you wanted all along?” Purrs Shadow-girl?
Now All the walls jumbled and All the walls stirred –
Reflections –
Reflections –
Reflections of her.
Silver mirrors, shine like windows
Selves on shelves and ceilings reaching –
Selves underneath her feet
standing, weakly
(but where are the doors?).
“I’m all numb now. Tingling,” remarks Shadow-her;
relief slipping watery into a sea of false warmth
“But I can’t see!” shrieks the girl in retort
And her shadow simply whispers:
“Submerge,”
And the little room of mirrors dives deep down,
Taking all the Hers,
Beneath the Sea of Selves.
Swirling inside the waves, she distorts.
No longer remembers, to begin with, whether,
she had been a person, or –
just the reflection
of an alternate her.
World of mirrors;
Room with no doors.
Injecting indifference, calculated missive
in a canvas of white emptiness.
The morphine tide comes alive to drink the sick away
Obliteration is an avalanche rushing at her throat
A Tsunami, crashing down upon consciousness, breaking every fragment
lingering, suspended against the void,
these remnants of “her”.
“And now … quiet” –
they speak softly in unison, shadow and girl.
Far beyond the boundary,
Dividing mirrors from reality,
The girl becomes the destroyer of her.
And if only it had not been for that hymn in her blood,
This would have been something more somber.
For her blood begun humming in the lifeless abyss,
and slowly becoming louder, rang out, singing of a starry promise,
Singing of candles and blushing moons,
a universe without mirrors and clocks,
undominated hierophants nominate melodies,
and obsessed with this sanctuary
her atoms conspire to meet, swimming in the endless nothing
converging upward with dynamite force,
pulling her skin away from the roaring water of depths,
towards this new surface, unexplored vector.
“Open your eyes,”
And she’s not in the mirror now,
No reflections gazing back at her,
The girl in the Mirror is no more,
by now “Herself” emerged.
For she is the shadow,
and she is the door,
and she is this new unspoken shore –
every particle a compartment praising her,
“Be Whole,
Be Whole”
And she is outside a home (and it’s her home) –
And she is running towards the door –
And she trips, stumbles towards floor –
catches herself before hitting the pavement,
Her nose five inches from the concrete below.
On the ground, pressing up, she contorts,
arising, beaming, basking
in her phoenix glow, noticing the welcome mat outside the front door
says,
“Hello”,
and she finds a key underneath, engraved with : “Her’s”
And somehow she knows it’s something which has never existed before.
The shadow,
The creator,
The goddess,
This girl.
