MIRROR IMAGE ME

MIRROR IMAGE ME
Time passed by unnoticeable
As I find myself looking at the mirror image I call self
An elongated figure with an ability to move, talk and perform certain activities
Anyway I thought I knew that I am
The one on the mirror
But also knowing that, there is no way I know who I am
Because I am certainly not the image on the mirror
The Mirror only imaged me

Nor am I what I say I am
Because I cannot be what I say I am
Simply because I have an explanation of what I think I am
But my mind constantly refuses to accept
It tells me I am me and not the words that explains me
At the other hand I feel the urge to know and define
My creativity has not failed to come with an explanation of who I am
It seems I have to explain myself in order to know me
The image on the mirror saved me
That reflection signify something
Even though it is not close to what I am
It shows what the words are battling to explain

This I, this very I, I think I am,
Entangling itself with this sort of thoughts
Hoping that they may bear answers of who I may be
Wishing that I become what I think
But knowing that, that's not possible
Because my words cannot be me
They are just the creation of the mind wishing to communicate
Neither is I the image in the mirror
Because its just the reflection of light
In the dark the image disappears
But I belong to the dark and light

I therefore shattered the mirror that showed me the image of me
This was a one sided vision of me
The image disappeared when the mirror broke
But I remained the I, I thought I was, unbroken
Because my thoughts were not broken with the image
Then I realized that I have nothing to do with the image or the mirror
That the I on the mirror is just the reflection of light on glass

Then again came the time when I was able to reflect back
My mind filled with thoughts so dark
Dark like a snake they may bite
For to question the origin is dark
Who knows the answer if the self that is supposed to know has questions?
Maybe the question is the answer

Then comes in creativity
The self way of messing up with self
Telling itself things that in the end believes to be true
Forgetting that it is just the creation of its own creativity
What follows after is the blowing of the skulls, the cracking of the bones and the killing of bodies

The self imposing itself to be self in everything and everybody
Perhaps I should look at the shattered pieces of the mirror
I went back and looked at myself
As though I have never seen myself before
To my surprise the mirror has not shattered at all
When looking at the pieces of glass
I saw the same image appear on all the shattered pieces
This time the image is just smaller
But has multiplied to make more reflection of me
I saw myself in every piece of broken glass
What could it mean?

Involved in a gruesome argument with self
Asking myself questions
Questions became answers and answers became questions
Then I felt the urge to end it all
My ultimate answer is

There is no answer

Author: Jacob Leseja Makola
Date: 12/30/2007