staring at a mirror's reflection
searching for my life's direction

not north, not south, not east, not west;
I see not a way that suits me best

To go there, to go where the lights know a way,
away from the light, reaching out into the darkness
such do the stars, as the sky grows starless

will I follow the unknown road?
some foreign path tread by so few
because so many know it exists;
all thinking, "all else have reached those sands
I will be the outcast,
choosing to outlast the law of the land"

their chosen profession of man
came to mean little to them
they could not understand
that their own light had grown dim

I, my search near it's end
will find myself a new light to lend,
I, having seen too many shards of glass,
cause of my own hand,
will soon discover all that I am
is buried beneath a dusty mirror...
afterall, once a reflection I may see,
the way to light must be clear,
clear to reflect man as man

but first it must be broken
such that free is man to walk right through,
to see the grass green and sky blue

long since has the truth failed to preserve what it true:
some of us do not belong, hence,
the mirror is mended,
the fleeting threshhold
of their returning escape to reality
has, quite suddenly, ended.

they stare longingly, lantern in hand,
with prying eyes we cannot command