The Endless Door
Sirius:
November...
The first of November,
And I'm still without her.
These days of Fall are a cold Samhain,
Feel the walls between us wearing thin.
Staring...
Glaring...
Where Savrina hung her mirror.
Madness, yes, has taken over.
Pacing with an aching fervor.
Gazing in this glassy border.
Filled with memories I can't ignore.
Looking glass in hand affixed,
Behind her head she'd stare transfixed;
At the reflection of herself betwixt,
And the thousand copies of her mirrored.
Wishing for those bygone days,
I lift her glass and share her gaze;
I stare far into sea green haze,
Searching for remnants of her moored.
Long I stood there deeply staring,
The glass behind my head ensnaring;
And shadows of myself uncaring,
Surrendered where this green fog lured.
“Is someone there?”
Deep within I swear I do see,
'Tis some shadow left of thee?
Or,
Can my reflection lie to me?
Therein the distance a voice was heard.
“Savrina?”
“Savrina?”
…
“Savrina…”
(screams)
My image into hers transformed!
The voice that came out from the spectre -
The voice sounded exactly like her -
The voice that was hers and no other, said:
Spirit:
Without a breath upon my body,
My soul was lost until you called me.
How glad I am still somehow to be,
Like opening a long stuck door.
Clear your eyes look with precision,
I am more than ghastly vision.
I still live within this prism,
In reflections of myself interred!
Sirius:
This image of her was so vivid,
I felt the room suddenly frigid,
And her presence made me timid.
Could the imprints of a soul be stored?
I saw where the infinite converged;
I saw where ghostly haze emerged,
And my curiosities resurged.
Could her time between the mirrors -
Staring in that sea so deeply -
Staring back indefinitely -
Etch those surfaces uniquely,
As her soul traversed the doors?
“Thou art not her, but wistful gimmick!
A trick of light, and quite horrific!
My mental state made this faint mimic!”
Savrina with her soft comport
Pressed her hand upon the port,
And like thick water does distort,
The glass across her fingers poured.
She clawed her way across the ford,
The edge between our worlds ignored...
“Wretched demoness and fiend!”
With hate, and fear, and rage I screamed!
Her groping hand's glass fingers gleamed,
As I swung the mirror unto the floor!
“On Earth no spectres shall run rampant!”
Obsessed in ending this enchantment -
Stamping every silver fragment,
Until only razor dust endured.
I spent that night in ceaseless weeping,
Fearing if I nod off sleeping.
Her ghost would sneak upon me creeping.
“NO!”
“No...”
Could there be something more in that illusion?
Am I alone in my confusion?
Or genuinely saw intrusion?
From beyond the endless door?
When the sun returned I still sat staring,
At the broken glass and glaring;
Until my shattered heart stopped caring,
That I tried kill her in a mirror.
“My dear Savrina,
Whom I tried killing in a mirror…”
Posted Nov 1, 2022, 12:52 PM UTC