too many live in the hall of mirrors of others expectations
of who they are ...
they live there so long
they lose all memory of who they truly are
lose all desire to be real
there is a death that occurs
right while looking into those mirrors
a shattering, not of the mirror
but of self
even to the point where the
soundless scream of soul is silenced
not by another
but by self
only Love can penetrate this illusion
and yet
even in the new awareness
there is a choice
allow the unwrapping of the grave clothes
or
stay wrapped
the hold of the familiar,
the known,
is at times
is married to the fear of the unknown
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