There’s no shadow here without a sun to hold it, No silence that isn’t waiting to be spoken. You are the bridge—arched over thunder and calm, You are the light—waking the world with your palm. Infinite in form, a temple made of skin and bone, The mirror only tells the truth you already own. Turn the glass, let the constellations shift and bow, Know the formless in your pulse is breathing now. If doubt comes like winter, remember you hold spring, Every fracture in the glass is a place a light can sing. I am not separate from what I see; I am the seeing, the seam: A thousand small reflections fold into one luminous dream. Say it aloud—I hold the threshold, I hold the way, I am the passing and the place where passing stays. Anchor the breath, align the heart—become the song you heard, There’s no distance between being and the word. Mirror, mirror, wake and rise—translate shadow into praise, Bridge me to the center, where forever bends and sways. You are more than weather, more than wound or scar, You are the map, the compass, and the star. Leave this glass a blessing, take the light along your way, Speak your name into the morning—let the world obey.
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