In our insecurity, we forged magical mirrors. Like all tools and substances, are not evil— only
as wise or as dangerous as the hands that wield them. No, what matters is our relationship to
them—both personal and collective.
Our mirrors were tampered with. Layered with tints and filters to keep us fixed to shadow
images of ourselves. Bombarding us with reflections— echoing truths, distortions, and blatant
lies until we could no longer tell the difference.
Our minds became clouded.
For how can one know the whole truth,
when it’s gazed upon layered filters,
never truly lived?
An infinite reflection, each mirror tainted,
Each one distorted.
And so we stayed inside.
Pacified.
Forgetting to touch.
Our eyes filled with light,
But we stopped seeing.
Stopped questioning.
Tapping.
Swiping.
Fidgeting.
Too engaged to really connect.
We forgot the union.
The story of Gaia—the Great Mother— fell from memory.
A lingering sadness
we cannot place,
cannot name,
Only feel,
resides.
A yearning for something we forgot we knew.