Mirrors are like dream catchers,
But they don’t always catch what we see and keep it.
The painful past time of watching silently, surrounded by the past and present. Back in preschool our dreams were big and always seen, as we aspire to be dream worthy.
No worries, except that feeling when we step out of the house and into the first day. Weather didn’t bother us and the mirrors weren’t stricken with life choices and Troubles, but we move on to bigger days.
With sleep only at night, more homework and more hours of looking into the mirror and pretending. Encased by the reflection of time.
Later our judgement flows as we ridicule ourselves and fight to be like others, like a teenage girl crying in her room over the changes her and her mirror experience.
The only control is how the dimensions are shown and even that is hard to fit. Cry over the scars we feel are lost in sand but carved in stone, scars that are due to experiences.
As we feel like butterflies lost in the wind our feelings are lost and remoulded by a new day, a new sight brought by the mirror we gaze into for insight and advice.
The depth into the mirror is not too deep, as deep as a pond into time, laying on the surface are the problems we create we see. The sight of the conformers we are and the stress we feel, but who are we when we move to the side the little person left behind us.
Are we the mould of the mirror or the dream we once dreamed to be.