My mind was a mirror: <br />It saw what it saw, it knew what it knew. <br />In youth my mind was just a mirror <br />In a rapidly flying car, <br />Which catches and loses bits of the landscape. <br />Then in time <br />Great scratches were made on the mirror, <br />Letting the outside world come in, <br />And letting my inner self look out. <br />For this is the birth of the soul in sorrow, <br />A birth with gains and losses. <br />The mind sees the world as a thing apart, <br />And the soul makes the world at one with itself. <br />A mirror scratched reflects no image— <br />And this is the silence of wisdom.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ernest-hyde/
