A long way of time, but another line just like it,
dubbing the self so gracefully;
I quest for myself, on the mirror’s side.
The opened threads of memories,
delicate enough to tear apart —
disillusion is another life,
with the person living on the mirror side.
I throw myself into him,
and lose my reflection in the grey;
it ends with the start of a new quest:
who is living on the mirror side?
Holding it back with a few faint clings,
I sit on yet another cliff of time;
I am ready to leave behind, to begin —
but the person on the mirror side?
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