Mirror of Truths

To the attic chores did call,

How I dreaded going there at all.

Dust and mite covered relics,

Sudden sounds that sent you to panic.

Upon doing what I normally do,

A tall sheet covered thing came into view.

I had never seen this up here before,

Something that stretched from short ceiling to floor.

Uncovered I did the sheet from its resting place,

An immense grandeur mirror I suddenly now faced.

Detail upon detail its edges held,

On the tensions of reflection and gilded wood it did meld.

Despite the light that dimmed and flickered,

My complete reflection was such a perfect picture.

I knew I dawned sweats and cleaning cloths,

Yet the view was liking to ruling Camelot.

Where dust and grime should have loomed,

Instead before me was radiance pooled.

The background of sheets, boxes, and moths,

Disappeared slowly the closer I got.

Just me and the simulacrum in sight,

Everything else fading as if devoid of light.

As I reached to touch the perfect form of me,

A crack here, there, everywhere began to be.

Horror swept over me at destroying this,

But something new was in the fractured abyss.

Where the leylines made their own mirror piece,

They birth a fresh image for my eyes to see.

A vision of me liking sharp attire,

Another an inkling of how I wanted to retire.

My fondest memory from childhood,

My worst fear in a piece near the wood.

Some filled with dreams that have never been,

Others reviewing times emotions on the mend.

What caught my attention was a select few,

The results of paths I never pursued.

A love that could have enlightened my life,

A chance to speak ending friendship strife.

Each revelation a mix of hope and remorse,

My mind wondering if I can still adjust course.

As I try to comprehend all I have seen,

Emotions battle within all of me.

Is it Fate or my own decisions at fault,

Accept these feelings or lock in a vault?

My attention is drawn to a new turn of events,

One by one the scenes begin to augment.

Some just disappear as I blink,

Others fade like into depths they sink.

No one group is safe from the dissolving plight,

Whether dreams or mistakes or past lives.

As each piece loses what it shows,

Its cracks fill to return to the whole.

As the last segment heals to the mirror face,

I am standing alone in this dusty place.

The completed surface even refuses to imitate my being,

Showing all the attic except the wreck I was seeming.

Heavy in thought I return the sheet to its ornate perch,

Covering the gateway to myself with a slow lurch.

With much to process in the pits of my mind,

I depart the musky attic's tight confines.

Many times I have returned to that space,

But the mirror was nowhere for me face.