Through the Looking Glass

Poetry & Artwork by: Madeleine Galea 

my breath fogs gently, 

steaming up the icy glass,

a tiny dragon obscuring the night beyond,

a dark sky speckled with stars,

frost stretching out into an eternity, 

as deep as the cold abyssal sea,

that stretches forth beyond horizons,

trickling down, 

the condensation races

droplets searching for edges, 

beads turning into pools, 

on their mighty quest to form oceans, 

as water completes its circle of being, 

its cycle,

the state of matter, 

a matter of fact,

statement unchanged by strife. 

My eyes catch on my own reflection, 

both my present self and my future, 

reflecting on the past,

standing on the other side of the glass,

the twinkles turning to eyes that blink straight from the sky,

a darkness murmurs softly,

all nights must turn to day, 

and the self we see will ebb away 

to lighter mornings and warmer skies,

the water drops race, 

gunning down the panes, 

and the moon turns on her swift heels, 

chasing after,




until the air is left with nothing but light,

and we see past ourselves into the glorious unknown of what could be 

if we let our well-guarded dragons embrace their fires

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