Anomaly Poem by Vaibhav Simha

Confounded and blind, my vision and mind,
So I find no grace in sight fore n' hind, when in it I find
Plain ole chary reflections that result in deflections
Of thoughts and inflictions considered to be afflictions.

If what we see and think is a reflection at the cosmic sink,
And all our images and emotions just natural dictations,
Why a hunt for the hidden link when ‘tis bare should we think:
Does recursive reflecting reveal real notions obscured by lively motions?

We find no grandeur in one being, for we learn from trees' altruistic giving
And overlook the cuckoo's forsaking of hatchlings mewling and puking.
Is it in our blood, to find diamonds in the mud,
Yet despise the grimy sod, and harangue it on accord?

Right before you is the Mirror: it could be your saviour.
Peer into its silvery coat surreal, and realise the ordeal
That lay before you flat, upon the celestial mat,
Whereon your will ambles to engage in grim gambles.

Yet if you have no eye, like I, then with a sigh
You can repine that the keel of the mirror is a twine,
Which will snap soon, divulging the demurring dune
Of shifting sands, ravenous to have you wander in its lands.