in the middle years
when days turn into nights
and the rivers fill with tears
the river path
has brought her here
beneath the sky
reflecting of the light
that fills her soul
halfway through
the window to the worlds
between the dark and light
beneath the moon
where angels sleep
as the world slips
beyond the sky
in the medium
where motion ceases
and I am neither
here nor there
strings of light
connected among
the strands of life
mirror by mirror
she enters the doors
through former lives
each path
a mirror to the depths
she has yet to explore
memories
reflect in a looking glass
to the life she never had