Once upon a time, there lived a young girl.
She was enchanted from birth and fell in love with the mirror in the room.
Every day she would wake and greet the mirror with a smile,
“Hello, my love, show me the other world.”
Then morning and afternoon light would die,
And she would cry and weep before the mirror:
“It is all shadows; where is my candle? Where is my glow?”
She would go to bed and sleep bad dreams.

The cycle repeated,
For eighty-eight storms and frosts.
The girl then became a woman, and the woman,
Spoke to the mirror each morning with a smile:
“My love, where is the other world?”
Dawn and dusk would wither away,
And tears would fall from her eyes as she pondered,
“It is all gloom and darkness; where is the true light?”

The cycle repeated,
For eight star falls and comet runs.
The woman grew old and wizened and every day she woke,
And spoke to the mirror: “My love, you are the world.”
Daylight and nightlight would fade away,
And the tears were dry and painful as she asked,
“It is all black and white. There is no flame.”

At the end of time, there was an old woman,
Sitting by the windowless edge alone.
The mirror twisted and reversed and revealed itself:
“There are no two worlds, my love; the light is the darkness—
You are the girl and the woman and everyone reflects.”