I met a mirror from Glasgow,
Quietly standing by a street,
A briefcase in one hand,
And oxfords on his feet.
His other hand did motion and to me didn't treat.
Would you like to have a look?
I'm the only one that lives.
I've seen a million mirrors,
I said.
I mean,
Really,
What gives?
He arched his frame and said again,
I'm the only one that lives.
What makes you so special?
I asked,
Then thought twice.
The mirror was wearing sunglasses,
His attitude had spice,
And the Rolex on his other wrist really was quite nice.
I only show the truth exactly as it is.
I almost spun and walked away.
All mirrors can do this.
But he handed me a business card with a whisper and a hiss.
On the linen card did read,
The only looking glass.
The rest are gone.
I'm all that's left.
You are a fool if you pass.
It was the most insulting card I'd ever given a glance.
I stepped around to look at him,
To see the truth in full.
But he did a foxtrot or tango step,
Like one would tease a bull.
I tried once more and off he ran.
What was he trying to pull?
He stopped when he saw that I was not in chase behind.
I'm actually surprised that in those shoes he made impressive time.
He ambled back to stand by me,
At an angle,
Out of line.
I didn't bite,
I'm not about to chase a mirror in shoes.
He saw this and he said to me,
What do you have to lose?
Why are you running?
I replied.
He said,
To show the truth.
You have a lot to say,
I said,
For a Rolex wearing mirror.
I'm not,
He flashed.
I'm a looking glass.
I don't replicate,
I steer.
I show things as they really are,
Not as they just appear.
What's the difference?
I replied.
A mirror shows what's real.
No,
He spat,
A mirror does not.
A mirror shows what you feel.
You see it with your eyes,
Unmoving on your heels.
Beware the man,
I always say,
The man of just one look.
For his truth is narrow,
Not expounded like a book.
His truth is only vanity,
To which he is quite hooked.
We once were all looking glasses and wandered quite like you,
To see the truth,
The whole of it,
Lookings,
What you do,
Not staring and expecting the truth to come to you.
Look just one way,
What do you find?
Enlightenment that's true?
We used to walk and move around to show much more than you.
Fear it yourself,
You'll never see anything really new.
But if you'd rather have your mirror flat and hard and cute,
Reflecting and replicating,
Your attempt at truth is moot.
We never say you're sitting truth,
We say you're in pursuit.
