The Soul-Twin's Mirror

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Within the hushed abyss of the mirror’s stare,

A soul-twin’s verity begins to flare—

Not in perfect consonance or flawless chord,

But in a resonance the heart has stored;

At times a rapture, at times a quake,

Rousing truths we dare not fake.


They come with mandate, resolute and clear,

To rend the veils that bind us here;

A mirror borne in an unflinching hand,

Exposing fractures long unplanned.

Not in judgment, but to unseal

The buried wounds we dare not feel.


A soul-twin’s role is not to bide,

But to awaken, then recede with tide—

Like lightning cleaving midnight’s shroud,

Revealing forms once disavowed.

Their brief ingress, a consecrated spark,

Guides us from the shadow’s dark.


They raze the ramparts wrought by pride,

Unmask the fears we’ve sought to hide.

They lead us trembling to the core,

Unlocking that forbidden door—

The citadel the ego designed,

A gilded cell for the self confined.


And in their parting, anguish swells,

Yet in that ache, a parable dwells—

A summons to transform and shed,

To face the truths we thought were dead.

For every tear becomes the seed

Of fortitude we never heeded.


When dust subsides from their retreat,

A horizon new and strange we meet—

The self remade, the spirit born,

From every heartbreak, every thorn.

They guide us, gently yet severe,

Toward the light that waits sincere.


For a true soul-twin is a guide—

A mirror, a spark, a mercurial tide—

A fleeting phantom, yet profound,

Who helps us find what’s always found:

Our own divinity’s awakened hymn,

To bear us strong when days grow dim.


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