the bloodstain

The man looked in the mirror –

It broke upon his glare

He reached out and felt

the shattered, scattered glass

Bleeding heavily

a hand touched his face

And his glare revealed a stain

That would not wash

The hand was that

of past tense

Bearing its soul and mind

Upon eternal now…

But then what – (as if it mattered) –

All lost in a chasm – like water

Down a well they could not drill –

The essence of the unborn thought

A sense one thought one felt

Yet dull was all that lay –

Dim was all that stood

And in the end of what – of whom

There bore a look

The mirror stared back at him

Its benefit at stake – to feel

A providence of

Righteousness conveyed

Empathising with another face

Reflected in itself –

Let its sign be that of

Graciousness and moderation made –

As fundamental and fanaticism fade

Stemming bleeding –

Healing mortal wounds

The bloodstain washes clean –

(The stain erased) –

Reflected in the mirror’s

Newborn face.

2 thoughts on “the bloodstain

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