An image, reflected by the glass,
Days gone by have brought you here
Sundry in existence, what’s presently has passed;
A future self alluring, thoughts which seldom seem to last,
Distorted by ascending smoke, hazy veil of fear.

Hand outstretched cuts right through illusions of the mind,
What’s really there are hopes and dreams more real than reality;
You vanish into air, although seeking you may find
A dance of aether, clearing weather, warmth of sun entwined,
The rising grey keeps hearts at bay, though this is merely fallacy.

The smoke will fade and dissipate the higher that you rise,
Image in the glass reflects what’s truly there;
A boundless spirit, covert in disguise,
The hero of your own life’s story, beautiful and wise,
With vision cleared in empty space, no longer fear to bear.

The smoke has cleared and what you see;
The unknown is reality.
Empty, vast, not here nor in the past;
Dancing cells have come alive,
Ensure true aim — let go.
The spirit of the hero.