MERCY

Mirrors spy on the eyes,

drawing them to the vortices of

reflection; celebrating the good,

condemning the faults.

Each glance a smile or frown,

changing the weather of

the heart into storms or sun;

the soul of self, shoulders up

to the day.

Like the surety of high winds

aloft the image we see is set;

mercy finds little hope where

time prevails.

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