Keeking-glass

A keeking-glass showing the face of you ,

Not knowing what hidden inside you .

It can’t ask , can’t say , can’t pretend

It can only particulate you ,

Perhaps intentionally or unintentionally .

Sometimes rubies glee ;

When it comes across a tidy magnanimous person ,

The stupid mirror unleashes an elated chuckle .

When a black face stands up in front of it ,

It also chuckles .

Again and again proving the harmony

Of “no separation”.

If you try to get a hold of the hands of your mirror image ,

With your own hands

You can’t .

Here comes the silent allusion –

What you can see you may not touch ,

You may not feel its entity !

In the world of variabilities

A keeking-glass is constant .

Orbs may differ ,

But the glass won’t replace you with me .

Oh magical paradigm !

You bag tidbits of every household

And metaphors of lives !