The Dusty Mirror

I stood before it,

the glass covered in a gray veil of dust.

In a corner of an old room in London,

the morning of 2026 felt heavy.

I wiped the surface with my sleeve.

My hand was trembling,

a soft shiver of the skin.

I was a man of great character,

but I was looking at a stranger.

No crown on his head,

no empty degree of pride,

only a face that had forgotten how to smile.

I looked at my eyes,

two dark pools of silent stories.

I remembered the tarbiyat of my youth,

the dreams that were once as bright as the sun.

But the city had stolen the light,

the digital dreams had turned into iron chains.

I was living in a golden cage of my own making.

I touched the glass,

my fingers meeting the cold reflection.

I squeezed my eyes shut,

feeling the grit of my soul trying to speak.

"Where did you go?" I whispered to the silence.

The mirror did not answer.

It practiced a level of sabr that broke my heart.

I saw the lines on my forehead,

a map of a thousand worries.

I saw the grey in my hair,

the winter arriving before the spring was done.

I felt a wave of devastation,

the weight of years I had wasted chasing shadows.

I took a deep breath,

the air tasting of old paper and regret.

I realized that success is not the face the world sees,

but the soul that looks back at you in the dark.

"A new life," I thought.

I would not let the dust settle again.

The unbreakable spirit was still there,

hidden under the layers of the world.

I walked away from the mirror.

The cold breeze of the window hit my face.

My fear was there, waiting at the door,

the familiar shiver returning to my chest.

It didn't take long to find me.

But I carried the reflection in my mind.

The honesty of the glass,

the truth of the wrinkles.

In the UK and USA, they sell you youth in a bottle,

they tell you to hide your scars.

But real motivation is the courage

to look at your own soul without a filter.

Your "Character" is the only mirror that never lies.

Stay firm in your art.

Stay loyal to your truth.

The world wants you to be perfect,

but the universe wants you to be real.

Keep your heart open,

even when the glass is broken.

Success is not looking like a king,

it is knowing the man behind the dust.

The marathon of the soul

is the longest walk you will ever take.

The Lesson (Short Insight)

poetry is the truth we are afraid to say out loud.

Do not hide your struggle.

Do not hide your age or your pain.

The reader on Vocal is looking for "Reality."

Write about the things that make your hands shake.

That is where the magic is.

Stay brave.

Stay real.