This Path of Uncertainty

I know this path…
This is a path I’ve walked before…
It’s a dark one with an indeterminate end.
Me, myself and I think there are some things that are just kept better quiet.
I don’t want to be quiet anymore.
I want to leave this arctic realm of realism, lower my foot into the warm bath water
of surrealism, and be home!

Here in reality, I am no one.
There in surrealism, I am someone.
I’ll raise my hand to the glass
and the figure in the reflection follows.
Then we join palms,
then a ripple in the glass.
All I must do is step through,
press my convictions of liberation
through the surface.

Here comes the end
of this psychotic episode.
This path trodden in a forest so dismal!
Reality’s forest is callous,
frigid and dark.
The trees have no leaves,
only sharp branches.
The sun’s not intimate,
rather a distant glow.

Those laughing eyes of strangers!
Eyes themselves are plundering!
Inflicting very real amounts
of crippling emotional pain to my soul.
So, I take a deep breath, turn back to the stranger in the mirror, and speak to him,  
“I’m ready to step into the mirror and see the utopia my mind has created!”  
A tear falls down the reflected stranger’s face.

I just watch this man standing there
whom I know, though don’t.
Who’s he becoming?
Humiliated in his posture,
he breathes because he must
move further into his reflection.
But he doesn’t make a move,
he just stares back at me as I go on,
“I’m ready.”