In silvered glass, a face reflects,An echo of dreams and past defects.Do eyes convey the truth they find,Or weave illusions in the mind?Each line traced by light reveals,The tales we hide, the scars we feel.Yet truth and shadow dance in play,In mirrors that both heal and betray.What do you see, when you look deep?A soul awake, or one asleep?Trust not just sights, but heart's decree,In what you know and choose to beAdvanced words

In argent glass, a visage cast,
Resonance of reveries past.
Do orbs discern reality's trace,
Or craft mirages in cerebral space?

Each photon-marked contour divulges,
Chronicles concealed, wounds' divulges.
Yet verity and umbra pirouette,
In looking-glass realms, both solace beget.

What vision greets when depths you seek?
An essence vibrant, or somnolent critique?
Enumeter not mere ocular decree,
But hearken to the heart's entelechy.

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In argent glass, a visage cast, Resonance of reveries past. Do orbs discern reality's trace, Or craft mirages in cerebral space? Each photon-marked contour divulges, Chronicles concealed, wounds' divulges. Yet verity and umbra pirouette, In looking-glass realms, both solace beget. What vision greets when depths you seek? An essence vibrant, or somnolent critique? Enumeter not mere ocular decree, But hearken to the heart's entelechy.

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