Reflections Through the Glass

I see the child I used to be,

With eyes unclouded, wild and free.

A world ahead, so vast, unknown—

Now much is lost, and more has flown.

The mirror holds a stranger's face,

Time’s quiet hand has left its trace.

The dreams once bright now flicker low,

Yet still, within, a faint hope glows.

The past is smoke behind my eyes,

A blur of truths and well-meant lies.

Some doors I shut, some stayed ajar—

Each one a wound, each one a scar.

The present is a fleeting spark,

A fragile flame against the dark.

It burns too fast, it slips too thin—

Yet it’s the only place we’ve been.

The future waits with veiled disguise,

A shapeless ghost beneath the skies.

It does not promise, does not swear—

It only dares us to prepare.

Will someone speak my name aloud,

Or will I vanish with the crowd?

The fear of fading fuels the fire—

To build, to write, to still aspire.

So I reflect, and still I strive—

To live, to love, to feel alive.

Though time will take and time will bend,

Let meaning mark me in the end.