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A Memoir of Mirror..!

June 29, 2015 | By

A reflection of the human mind, its various foibles and epiphanies unfolded through the omnipresent voice of a mirror. An eye-opening fictional narrative.

Mirror

“Though the truth is not what you see or perceive, but what my humble glassy skin shows you.”

I hold a memoir on the diaphanous surface. The quill of my soul scribbles the cryptic encrypted notes. The enclosed myriad secrets flutter, but it never reflects on the gossamer skin. The nuance of emotion is glum on its fragility. Though it never spills the quintessence fearing it may blur the mirror blocking the vision of entities.

My honesty and clarity, the virtues invite your blind faith on me. I venerate your penchant for me for which I gift a glimpse of you. As a sculpture’s brilliance, I present the pristine carving of your physical self! Though the truth is not what you see or perceive, but what my humble glassy skin shows you. This awareness pricks me as a curse in recluse.

I have surrendered myself. I acquiesce to be wholly holy to escape the labyrinth of illusion that remains a desire, as I am exposed to the truth that I am not required for anyone to see their inner self or the transparent beauty they behold in utter divinity. So what I reflect you is not YOU but ME as you. So I weep when I see you admire your transience, the mere illusion of the beauty of your mortal flesh. The true grace and the glow of your eternal soul don’t reflect through my gossamer as your eyes are blind with earthy vision. This prevents you from seeing the real charisma that needs inner vision, and not a mirror.

Still, I relish the silent monologues, your absent mind lets go freely in front of my existential absence. In spite of that, I secretly seek thy earnest attention to share my feeble melancholy. Rather your images vanish as you leave me forgetting even to acknowledge my silly deed. I am bound to remain a memoir and the secret admiration and desperation of yours haunt me, swirl as guilty and produce tears that vaporise before anyone notices it. I am destined to be just a medium to introduce your physical self and any sort of lingering that is not in my help won’t serve me or others.

What you see at times is deceptive!

More stories to read

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A Story: Not A Random Thought

The One Who Came Around

Writing poetry is a passion among other passions. I have experienced poetry as a xanax to me and as cathartic too. Poetry is a viaduct between everything at the micro and macro levels. Some of my dalliance along this pristine journey are fragmented as literary embellishments in several anthologies. A few were awarded at DestinyPoets, UK. I blog at Maaya's - Musing!
All Posts of Maaya Dev

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<div class=at-above-post addthis_tool data-url=https://learningandcreativity.com/motivational-quotes-unfold-myth/></div>“They're only crayons. You didn't fear them in Kindergarten, why fear them now?” 
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“They're only crayons. You didn't fear them in Kindergarten, why fear them now?” ― Hugh MacLeod