In distance, things are held with ease, Yet beyond them lies the hardest breeze. Detachment brings a crystal sight, Where love is born in purest light.
Her heart, a mirror, calm and clear, Reflects all faces, far and near, Without a judgment, true and free, Just as they are, so they shall be.
A mirror holds no face, no sight, It waits in silence, still as night. And when it speaks, it softly shows, Not its own, but what it knows— The soul that stands before its glass, The “other” that it lets pass.
