Refections

A wise man's words come back to me-
"The eye sees not itself but by reflection."
I find a mirror and gaze there deep
to see relentless scrutiny
reflected back at me.
Every step in life I took
is traced |ierein as residue
of scars and frowns and smiling days
composing lines and features
of the outward T I see.
"Not yet," it mocks, "how dare you try
to read a book before its time.
Your secret I will not reveal
until your dying hour,
for only when that page is filled
can you alone make sense of me."
Abandoning the incompletion
in my eye that I perceive
I join a crowd of revelers
gathered in the street,
where every eye I now encounter
holds my tiny image freed
from facts that come with knowledge
of the steps that bring me there.
Distortions built from residue
of scars and frowns and smiling days
composing tales from lines and features
of the outward T they see.
"Not here," I think, "how can I try
to see my self in strangers' eyes
that lack the love that I must find
before my secret stands revealed,
for only when that space is filled
can another's eyes enlighten me."
A wanderer on this planet I,
come across a grassy knoll
Where cradled by the earth I lie, still seeking but
pne true refection beyond the realms of fact and
fiction and above me bends the come of sky
refected in my searching eyes.