In the quiet moments of the night,
When the world is still and calm,
I gaze into the mirrorâs light,
And see the self beyond the palm.
Each line and scar, a story told,
Of battles fought and dreams pursued,
A journey through the days of old,
An endless quest for something true.
The eyes, they hold a thousand thoughts,
Of joys and sorrows intertwined,
A tapestry of lifeâs own knots,
Woven through the endless mind.
And though the path may often bend,
And shadows cast a fleeting doubt,
The heart within will never end,
For self is what lifeâs all about.