I could not shine your truth as the stars,
those cosmic mirrors of fire
wheeling along Destiny's pathway.
The Sun sustains my art,
as spalls of conjured, contrived radiance.
Before my silent presence
you leach the core of your courage,
drawing its essence into
your lonely armour,
for I am your tractable ally in the wings
of life's stage,
powerless before your veiled eyes,
a voiceless inhabiter of this ephemeral
sphere of matter.
Aye, I am an instrument of your illusions
and their perpetuation,
of your charades and vanities.
Yet, I see the triskelion of your inner light;
your immense paracosm
and secret caverns of mystery;
the wings you seek to rise to your higher
your spirit's oneness with Nature's power.
Would that you could see
buried blossoms, a corroding Spring
within your unseen perdition!
Would that you could know your most
one who mocks the bloodless veins and
sunless catacombs of your self-abnegation!
Stand unguarded before yourself,
for you would glimpse a garden abandoned,
seeds you neither sun nor water,
roots that lie hidden in the grasp of Time.
© 2015 Lily's Verse
Image: THE MIRROR
Artist: Sir Frank Dicksee