To fully know oneself requires the will
To look into a broken mirror of shadows
Of mosaic pieces rejoined together until
The shattered debris transforms into a picture

From gathering the fallen parts, one’s fingers bleed
One’s heart sings and breaks and recovers
And is taught the painful lesson of one’s past deed
Before the ruins have vanished and the pieces are gone

There is left after this endless task
No shadow nor reflection but a frame
Empty and unadorned, a frame without a mask
But an easel on which to create a new work of art

Proceeding with one’s soul and not one’s mere reflection
Painting a picture, weaving a motley of vibrant colors
The only artist who could create such work so close to perfection
Is oneself, the ruler of one’s own decision and destiny

The craft of reality with its subtle designs and hues
Possess a truth which travels beyond the tangible, the seen
Beyond the mirrored image dwells an epiphany of views
And one finds oneself in the world of one’s own creation

Oneself- the artist, the creator, the architect
The monarch of one’s future, yearnings, and dreams
Who must step into the tides of time and subject
Falling to fly again, losing to regain