My Morning Mirror Poem by Peter Olevnik

My Morning Mirror



May I awaken to the light of
my own true nature.
- - - -From a Buddhist Prayer

Looking through the image
before me in my morning mirror,
in a moment's transcendent concentration,
was a stranger staring back at me.

It was an aged face I saw
of steadfast, peering eyes,
a dour page of withered text
composed by time's darker inks.

What lingering memory in morning's mist,
carved those deepened lines,
of loss and choices with no remaking,
etched that face before my mirror dark?

Like an ancient tome to its shelf consigned,
long bound by fore edge clasp and chain,
unlike its words, by their thoughts endowed
set free to drift from page to page.

They're not mine those eyes I see,
but still a child's like mine.
There my mind resides, ageless, roaming rooms
where hope and dreams and fears abide.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Marianne Reninger 09 September 2015

Yes, the child in all of us as reflected by our eyes....Really liked it! Marianne Larsen Reninger

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