Standing there before me in the twilight of dismay
Stands a figure of a man that I scrutinize each day.

Staring with intensity that still has not yet faded,
Beating with a cadency a crimson not all jaded.

An interwoven canvas of grey eyes that have run dry.
A mess of ruffled fabric, which no longer holds its dye.

Once broad and undefeated, once a strength beyond dimension.
A complex of complexities, a depthless comprehension.

Intrepid self taught wisdom in an ever changing realm
brought an unwelcome distraction that dislodged him from his helm

A shadow of the being that once occupied his frame,
A self-realised mere mortal that has slowly gone insane.

No longer quite the human that he had hoped to be,
No longer quite the oracle that he had once foreseen.

An ever changing contrast in a paradox of time,
He stands right there before me seeking answers much like mine.

I gaze into the steely eyes that never seem to waiver,
A lock in cold retort with a man fate shows no favour.

And for a fleeting moment recognise the child long gone astray,
I close the mirror cabinet and slowly walk away.