Poems of Narad

Behind the Mirrored Surfaces

So clear the mirror of my days.
Every imperfection's mote,
Each errant thought that enters stays
The clear and calm descending note

Of peace that long I've striven for.
I look and see a stranger's face
Or recognize a visage poor
That greets me with a worn embrace.

Anger and impatience glow
Like torches in a brilliant sky
But hidden is the solemn slow
Progression of the deity.

I wonder at this pristine glass
That lets me view the outward soul
But not the God behind the crass
Embodiment outgrown its role.

To be like a serpent that sheds its skin
And slough off old encumbrances,
Acquainted with the light within
Behind the mirrored surfaces.