The Glimpse of the Tattered Man

Within the mirror hides a darker shade

That rips my ‘sol’ into the prison’s glass.

Is this the man she loved? Or did he fade?

I wonder as each grain of sand doth pass.

I’ve mem’ry spent in Man Within My Coil,

But fading as the tiring winter light.

I love him less than she; I hold his eyes

As my imagination doth spoil.

-

But cries the heart as blood from quarry wall:

This broken man, upon the ground he lies,

Yet of his fading footsteps he finds sight,

And hope of healing, hugs the light he spies.

A shattered mirror holds a broken man,

His mind will mend what semblance loving can.