the Thinker

Looked in the mirror this morning,
saw something strange,
I have been cleft into two;
a complete change.

Looked deeper into the image,
cast before me.
My physical being is still intact;
But this is not who I used to be.

What splinter, what fissure then
caused such a change?
Something was completely new
But something forever deranged.

What is that new element?
Does it suit me?
Maybe it does,
But this is not who I used to be.

There are deep lines along the cracks,
Dark, black and red.
My veins used to be bluer before.
Now they look so dead.

What are those heavy lumps on one side?
They almost pound me.
There is one with some colour in it.
But this is not who I used to be.

One half still bears relics of who I was.
My fading colours flickered through the gaps in it.
They could have been brighter;
Immortal, alive and breathing with spirit.

The other half stared back saying,
‘But I have some colours too.
They are not like the ones you had;
But then, they are new.’

Glanced, as it gleamed with them.
They were luminous in parts but mostly misty.
They were in me and ME now;
But this is not who I used to be.

‘Should I be content? Should I be cross?’
Both halves were silent, none talked.
I sat back thinking in a huge stretch of seclusion
Time had chalked.

What was mine is lost largely.
What remains is not fully me.
What I have is still a mystery.
Was this how it was meant to be?

‘They are yours, and so they shall ever be,’
The halves spoke unified and looked at me.
‘Yes, I know,’ I replied.
‘But this is not who I used to be.’