A Broken House of Glass

A Broken House of Glass

I live in a house of glass
Flooring, ceiling, walls of glass
Every corner reflective, sure
Echoes of a vision bouncing
Back on reflections of reflections
Images all the same,
Of all the same reflections
Echoing all the same
Revealing to me that I also live in a house of glass.

And then are the mirrors on mirrors
Reflecting many more
Halls of mirrors residing, on
One sturdy mirrored door, which
Reflected on to the door, across
Sitting in an endless row of glass
Revealed another row of glass
Echoes of mirrors on mirrors
Reflections of reflections past
Mirrors on mirrors. And then…

I live in a house of glass, but
I do not live there all alone
There’s me and myself
And there’s I, we
Or shall I say us travel
Backwards, sideways, diagonal,
Through the others’ reality
Traveling backwards through
The house of glass in which I live.

As I walk down the hall I see many
Things reflected from the walls of glass
I see myself traveling back into
The infinity reflected on innumerable
Reflections of reflections of mirrors upon
Mirrors of echoes of whispers of visions long gone
On and on forever see me, myself and I, and
I see many things as I walk down the hall,
But none of them is me.

The other day I looked in the mirror and I looked back at me.
My expression was grim. I opened my mouth to ask myself why I was troubled but I stopped when I realized I also had a question.
Did we both have the same question? As I nodded I did too. We understood each other me and I.
We started an informal staring contest. There was no pressure. We both decided the only thing we would lose was our dignity. If I couldn’t beat myself then every time I saw me I would see a failure.
We were evenly matched. Or so it seemed. But in a starring contest someone had to lose. I was going to make sure it wasn’t myself but me who lost.
Sometimes I would feel me right eye going for a blink but while I was recovering I was struggling with my left. As I starred I realized how alike we were me and I.
I blinked. I’m pretty sure I blinked first. It’s hard to see if my eyes are closing when I’m closing my eyes.
I bent my head in shame. I wished I’d never seen me. I didn’t want to know myself. I was a creature of disgrace.
Tears gathered in my eyes.
But not one did I let loose since I was not good enough.
Then I had a terrible thought.
What if I was starring at my bowed head smirking in triumph. I couldn’t bear even a contemptuous glance from me.
I may be worthless in face of myself but I would not let myself be ridiculed by me.
But when I looked up to confront myself I was not smiling.
In the mirror I also had tears in my eyes.
I don’t know who cried first because its hard to know if I’m crying if I am watching myself cry.
I felt better when I saw my tears dry and so was I when I saw the same.
Then I got curious about myself. I asked me where I was when I wasn’t in front of the mirror. But apparently I also had the same question. So we both answered. But the trouble was that I said I went where me always went and me said me went to the same places as I. This couldn’t be so since surely I would have seen me if I was there.
We were puzzled. Either it was me or myself that was wrong. And certainly I wasn’t wrong. So that only left me.
I asked myself why I was lying to myself. And I had the audacity to ask me the same question!
We both proclaimed our innocence but I knew I was lying. I was astounded on how easily I lied to me. It hurt how easily I betrayed myself.
I then demanded that I come out of the mirror. That I should face myself like the braver of the two sexes. I told myself that I could not stay in there forever. I ended by glaring at myself.
And I glared right back! Apparently I thought I was the one inside of the mirror! That I needed to come out.
Again it was I who was wrong. But what if I was wrong.
What if both me and I were stuck in a mirror or possibly even the same mirror?
It was a horrifying thought. It meant that I was trapped in my mirror. And it meant the same was true for myself.
I placed my hand on the mirror. So did I.
It seemed we should have been touching. But the mirror held us apart.
I turned away. I needed a break from myself.
I stayed that way for a long time. My back to my mirror. Not facing myself. But then I sighed and turned. And I saw in the mirror that I was also doing the same. Apparently I hadn’t wanted to look at me either.
But now we didn’t want to fight anymore.
Then I had a good idea. It occurred to me from time to time I never got to see myself in the mirror since I was always in the way. So I took out a mirror and held it in front of me so I could see what I look like. Also having this great idea I did the same.
I looked at that mirror I held before me for a long time. Both me and I were very confused by what we saw. The me in my mirror looked like me. And even more surprisingly the me reflecting in my mirror looked a lot like myself.
How could this be?! This wasn’t possible unless I was myself. And the vice versa for me.
And then we both understood what was wrong. It was the mirror. It tricked us. Of course we weren’t the same person! That was a ludicrous idea. I was not me and me certainly was not I.
It was just the mirror that thought we were. That’s why it made us look alike. But where it failed was trying to make us think the same. Obviously I was much more intelligent than myself over there.
Obviously my thoughts were also mine. I also thought I was smarter than me.
We both raised or fists in our rising fury. This was surprising because while we were always fighting it was normally with words if even that.
Our fists met with a resounding force. The glass shattered and I fell away with the jagged shards.
I looked for myself where the mirror had been, where I had always been. But there was no sight of me there. Although I did see someone, perhaps I, indeed it was me, who looked a lot like me reflected in far distant corridor.
Then I looked down. And a million mes looked right back up.
But this time I’m sure that I blinked first. And a million Is/eyes blinked right back.
I left the shards of glass upon the tiled glass floor. And went to the distant corridor where I had spotted I. But apparently I had somewhere to go because I walked further down a hall of mirrors.
So I called to me but I didn’t hear. So I ran after myself. I was always a step behind, a step or two/too far distant. Close enough to see but not enough to touch. Enclosed in a viewing case of glass.
And while and I ran after me each of us running through a hall of mirrors I looked discretely for myself. But I was still nowhere to be found.
And I kept just ahead. Sometimes I tricked myself by walking right under my nose, right under my feet to be precise. Sometimes I would see me flying at an odd angle to place I was not going. A place I was not even sure I could go. And still go I did.
I ran after me through eternity to a finish found only at infinity’s end. Or until I grew tired of teasing me!
Or maybe just until I grew tired of chasing myself.
But neither of these considerations were why me or I stopped.
We were carrying on our chase in varying degrees of merriment when suddenly (I must have been confused) I was coming straight at me. I tried to avoid myself but I (still obviously very confused) stayed in my inevitable path.
We met with such force that the glass house sung in apprehension.
We both looked at each other worriedly.
I asked me how I was and I answered that I was okay. I returned the favor and I answered just the same. And then we became aware the house had yet to stop to sing and ring..
It vibrated with its long held note. Then it began to shake.

And cracks began to chip away
At every mirrored surface: flawed,
Mirrors of mirrors of echoes of reflections on
Reflections of a vision a long time since
Broken infinity shattered into a million mes until
I fell away on tattered bits of insanity
My big glass house breaking with
Me and I nowhere to be found
Walls and floors and ceilings of glass
Falling, falling as they fell away.

Reflections of shards of slivers of silver
Reflect so shiny and sharp, hard
Shiny, sharp teeth tear away, I away
As the many Is/eyes ricochet, off
The broken, glass, mirrored doors, through
The nevermore endless corridors, from
Me I fly, to me I fly, I surely died, spied
A red kaleidoscope with me as the center
Shattered apart hard, shiny, broken glass
Broken shards of me upon the ground.

And red drips from the glass, down
In a puddle so shiny and slick, sliding
Along the reflections of mirrors with sharp edges with
Such painful pleasant grace sliding, dripping, into
A puddle of red deepening redder and redder drop, drop, by
Exquisite drop darkening the veil of red over
A whisper of a mirror’s reflection a long time coming
Deep endless red reflecting my reflection
Only my reflection drips from the glass.

I once lived in a house of glass
With every mirror and reflection
Within and without itself, in
An endless echo of infinity on forever,
And so did me and I as well but
As I view the broken dreams
Shattered upon the cold, dark ground
I cannot seem to find myself, finding
Only my reflection reflected upon
The whispers of a broken kaleidoscope of echoes
Where a house of glass once stood.

Other ending.
They found me in the tattered, jagged shards, the mirrors upon mirrors pieces on the ground. They found me amongst the broken glitter of a dream surprising alone.
I asked them where I was because I could not see myself anywhere. And there was also no sight of me.
They told me I was safe. But did not mention me. And I knew they were lying.
I would have known what to do. And for that matter so would have I. Unfortunately the only one of us there was myself.
Alex, then they said.
I looked around. I knew no one by that name.
Alex, then they said again.
They looked at me like they were expecting an answer. Indicating that this Alex they spoke of they thought was me.
I could have lied but I told them the truth. I was not Alex.
Surely even the mirror had never been that that confused.
So one of them showed me a newspaper article.
It was entitled Local Resident Builds a Funhouse describing how an Alex Stone built a house of mirrors to live in. A grainy picture of the homeowner was on the left of the column. I still didn’t know this person but still… This Alex seemed familiar.
I told them I was pretty sure I didn’t know Alex Stone.
The one who gave me the article now gave me semi-large shard of broken house. He gestured that I should look at it and then at the newspaper clipping.
I looked down but all I saw was my reflection.
Then I looked at the picture again and had a funny thought. This Alex Stone looked like me and vaguely resembled I.
However it was obvious who would have blinked first.

I once lived in a house of glass
With every mirror and reflection
Within and without itself, in
An endless echo of infinity on forever,
And so did me and I as well but
As I view the broken dreams
Shattered upon the cold, dark ground
I cannot seem to find myself, finding
Only my reflection reflected upon
The whispers of a broken kaleidoscope of echoes
That were a house of glass.