Mirror Of The Past Poem by ashok jadhav

I catch glimpses of the self I once knew,
in photographs, in old letters, in half-remembered songs.
That person laughed without caution,
dreamed without fear, and held the world
as if it could be bent by hope alone.
Time has worn me differently,
carved lines I did not invite,
softened edges that once were sharp,
and left shadows where certainty used to live.
I speak to that self in quiet hours,
asking for guidance, for courage,
for the spark that once ignited everything,
and hear only echoes I cannot reach.
Grief lives not only for loss of others,
but for the self lost along the way,
for the soul that once soared freely
and now walks cautiously in borrowed light,
remembering who it used to be,
while learning how to survive who it has become.