The Stranger In The Mirror Poem by Adarsh Prem

Long I stared into the mirror dark,
My weiry face stared emotionlessley back,
The longer I stared, the stranger I became,
I felt my reflections seething disdain.
What was it that stared back?
Who was it within the mirror dark,
Are these dead eyes and aged flesh,
Who I am?
Then who thought these terrible thoughts,
Who yearns for the answers it sought,
This flesh is simply the home of the soul,
Alas why does the soul not recognise what it beholds.
What is it that watches me think,
A stranger lurking in my souls crevice.
A silent observer to all my pain
A twin of mine, gestated within.
But the same listener lives in all human souls,
Watching it think and blunder along,
The observer is what we are,
The same being within the human heart.
The reflection is not me,
Neither am I my thoughts.
I am that which observes my thought.
What I am is truly unknown.
What I am cannot speak,
It has no eyes, no mouth, no lips.
What I am is an ancient thing,
An amalgamation of suffering.