In mirrors not of glass, but in people's mind,
Exists a version of you, unlike you can find.
A vision formed by thoughts and quick looks,
An image by your actions and chances you took.
To strangers, you’re just a passing sight,
A story they gather, day or night.
A mix of remembered kindness,
Or tales wrapped in warmth and fondness.
To some, you’re the laughter in the morning light,
A light when the day dulls their bright.
To few, you’re a ghost from dreams,
A loose thread, a memory in flames.
They see you as a hero in their plight,
Or a soft presence or a brief light.
A lover’s sigh or in a rival’s sharp eyes,
A reflection in their paths and ways.
In every mind, you are painted in colors,
A view from each angle, their dolor's.
The version of you they see and tell,
Is colored by their truths which they sell.
Yet, through all this, you stay a spark,
A steady fire that brightens the dark.
The real you, in their opinion and dreams,
Is a mix of their stories and what it seems.
So in their minds, you’re many things,
A living tale that each heart brings.
And as you move through their dreams,
You seek the truth within all streams.
By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
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