Aged Mirrors (22) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler

Aged Mirrors (22)



The blinding noon sun.
It is the evening, the soft light,
That restores our eyes:
The shapes of the murmur,
Of the silence.


Hours like a minute desert.
No one left to see us
Little by little we learn
How to live invisible.


We reach the evening
With hands full of fate,
Yet empty.



- -

From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com

Friday, March 8, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: spiritual
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