Old Man In The Mirror Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Hey, old man in the mirror —
you gotta do better, man.
You are a Chinar in autumn now,
ablaze with crimson from within,
your burning heart worn openly,
your love still blazing through the leaves.
But soon you'll stand stripped bare,
your fire-overcoat surrendered.

Hey, old man in the mirror —
The years have moved like water
while you stood watching from the bank.
Then winter will come for you —
that white, annihilating silence —
and wrap you in its silver shroud.
What will you have done
that you can turn toward with open hands?

Hey, old man in the mirror —
when are you gonna rise, man?
You swore you'd live for your burning people,
yet you watch your days drift past
like smoke from an untended fire.
Old man, don't you wanna live
before you die?
The fire in you now
will soon be embers.
Find your passion.
Find what you love.

Hey, old man in the mirror —
Don't you fear being forgotten —
or do you feel, somewhere below all fear,
that your essence belongs to something
that cannot be extinguished?

Hey, old man in the mirror —
what are you waiting for?
Yes — the spring is coming.
But the tree must first be emptied.
One day you'll have to bring forth
what has always lived within you:
that trust you took on
before the world had a name.

Hey, old man in the mirror—
you gotta do more.
You gotta be more.
How much longer
will you grieve at the window?
Your time is already moving.
If you wanna live,
you gotta begin today.
Don't you know —
like the Chinar,
you can become young again?

Hey, old man in the mirror—
first, something must die.
Let the fear die.
Let the mourning die.
Let the unlived life die —
that pale ghost you kept
out of habit, not love.
Stop mourning.
Start dreaming.
Start doing —
while your heart still runs.

Hey, old man in the mirror —
the Chinar does not grieve forever.
Each winter strips it to the bone,
yet every spring it rises again,
leaf by leaf, flame by flame,
as if it never forgot
what it was made for.

And so can you.

— MyKoul