Through the quiet corridors of your soul, the whispers echo
distorted by a thousand mirrors
bending and stretching truth beyond recognition.
Ever-turning paths lead the wanderer
deeper into the embrace of self.
Wisps of thought elude grasping hands,
silhouettes of what was, what could be,
refract in the glassy gloom.
Have you met yourself yet, faced to face?
Or stumbled blindly through corridors unseen,
with only whispered echoes for company?