Mystery's Mirror

Mystery's mirror has magically made

A mess of who I am; so I mimic,

I'm muddled, my mind is full of moths,

And the swirls surrounding shadows

Are not quite like the night,

And even less of light,

But down and deeper still

Where the world can dream awake;

Where morning might be maybe,

And evening's in my eyes...

So I let the lids and lashes fall,

And curl up in between.