Unseen Reflections

In the ancient hall there hangs a mirror,

An unblinking eye that never closes.

Not on brides dressed in satin and roses,

Or darkened scenes fraught with nerveless terror.

Unlike the portraits’ static poses,

Their cool, distant, blank, and unblinking gazes,

Ancestors’ hounds before brushstroke blazes,

Smooth silvered glass heeds more than one supposes.

Earless, deflecting sounds of praises,

Mute, reflecting truths that seekers deplore,

Sightless, yet seeing the flaws we ignore,

Heartless, berating our hopeful faces.

Expectant fathers have paced the floor,

Before this unseeing, unknowing eye,

Mourners have prepared for loved ones to die

Revealing less a window, than a door.