The Mirror Held

For thousands of years, I have felt the silent dawn,

A world untouched, yet pulling you along—

Through primal fears and ancient grace,

We trace humanity’s first trembling place.

Beneath star-strewn skies and smoky fires,

I feel our ancestors’ raw desires,

And you, too, cling to survival’s edge, the hunt, the kill,

Instincts sharp as night’s cold chill.

From shadowed caves to villages, shedding tears,

I have learned—and you will learn through years—

To craft, to build, to dream from primal screams,

To shape our lives, to chase our dreams.

Yet progress bears its hidden scars—

I see ambition burn, fierce and blind,

While gentle hearts, like yours, are left behind.

Greed whispers dark beneath the stars.

I breathe the scent of sweat, of musk, of toil,

You sense the mingling sorrow, blood’s dark coil.

The misery of mortal decay surrounds us both,

In death’s cold grip, all fears lay bare—

A final breath, a silent prayer,

A soul released into the air,

Yet lingering still in memory’s hold—

The stories of pain, the stories told.

Through every era’s shifting tide,

I stride—and you dare to stride beside—

From kindness blooming in humble hearts,

To cruelty tearing worlds apart.

Our nature, complex as the sea,

A tangled web of misery and glee,

A mirror cracked, yet whole in part,

Reflecting both your light and my dark in art.

The scent of time, of flesh decayed,

Reminds us how each breath will fade—

A fragile vessel, a mortal shell,

Whispering stories we know too well.

In the final moment, with lungs’ last gasp,

Lies truth, no mask, no clasp—

Our essence, raw and true,

A Quilt of Chaos, Hope, and Rue.

And still we seek, through shadows and pain,

You and I, chasing meaning in endless rain,

To understand our nature’s core,

To strive for something more—

For love’s sweet scent, for grace, for light,

Amid the darkness of endless night.

So let this tale be a mirror held—

For you, for me, of depths both fallen and excelled,

A story woven through ages vast,

Of evolution’s echo, ringing still.