I cleared the desk of my heart, and placed
A paper, with a question oft asked with the aim
To grant fissiparous wealth, but when faced
With the possibility of truth, to recover grace
However slight, the question is no longer a game
"What do I want?" Many things would satisfy
An easier life, or a more adventurous one perhaps
I asked myself and found with barely a try
A door appeared beside me and the rest collapsed
So only the door remained, its handle I clasped
Where it opened to a hall haunted by a faint cry
Down I walked the dark-filled hall, with a light
Peeking out the end, from where that sound might
Be coming from, a whispery sniffle as if
Someone was hiding, keeping a grip
On their sound. At the tunnel's end the sight
Around the corner, a small child alone lit
With their back to me, I could see, starker that I ever have
Of all the children who've lived on this troubled earth
I knew this one better than any other, for they had
The thin hair, the portly frame, difficult features from birth
I recognised myself then, the child and I were both
I walked over; I started and looked up at myself
Two portraits in a mirror a generation apart
I remember denying the emotional release to help
When reeling in the dark alone with my scars
What I want now, I wanted then - a kindly heart
Crouching, I took my own hand and smiled
My younger self shook, soft and pale as a dove
For the first time feeling someone else's love
I hugged, at last weeping, and stayed long a while
For my own shoulder I leaned on as a child.
@nepion_boreas17
