The Truth in the Mirror [*POEM*], by Gilbert Huntley


The looking glass reveals to me
A spectre which I seldom see—
The sight of me just as I am:
Of flesh and bone—a mortal man.
In younger days, with less reflection,
I thought I had achieved perfection:
Bullet proof . . . forever young.
And thus somehow to life I clung.
But now that days are getting grayer
No more am I a carefree player.
I understand how I’ve been blest,
Sojourning here among the rest.
And I—like they—will wilt and die
(Oh fleeting Time, where did you fly?)
So soon the flesh to dust returns.
Ah, this too late—too late one learns!
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9 thoughts on “The Truth in the Mirror [*POEM*], by Gilbert Huntley

  1. Hey there ole Gill!
    Discovered the Law of Entropy, have you?
    Remember that the only thing that you can salvage from dusty future is Karma.
    This too is part of the said universal law, an extension waiting to be announced by a future Nobel laureate.
    (But not lobro who can give Lasha lessons in shyness)

  2. if there is more to life than 80 years … then we are more than bulletproof … we are timeproof

    you were smart when you were young … what happened

  3. Penned it after attending the funeral of a friend I’d known since childhood. Sent it to Lasha because she’s kind enough to edit some of my attempts at poetry – and even publish them.

    It feels very sobering to reach the point in life when one actually realizes one’s own mortality. Sober is good, I suppose…

    1. Gilbert,

      This is a good poem about the passage of the years and the coming of wrinkles and the frailties of age. Does Lasha really “edit” your poems? What does this consist of I wonder? Do you think her suggestions are genuine improvements?

      Knowing Lasha, she is probably “sexing up” your verse.

      Watch out for the succubi and the gybrochs! 🙂

      1. Hey, Sardo. How would anything I ever wrote get onto this site if Lasha or her cousin didn’t approve??

        In truth, I have a repertoire of poetry which would fill a boot box, and most is copyrighted, but I never published a volume. (Some have been framed and sold at auctions – but they are either martial or ‘agricultural’ in essence.). Lasha likes romantic stuff or personal genre type, as one can conclude upon reading what she has displayed on this site. I like that, too, and it gives all of us a peep into her mind.

        You see, I was raised to be a manly man, and poetry is just a private past time, like piano (which I adore). My whole life is bass-ackwards from what you might perceive (as is, probably, Lasha’s – who I have never met or with whom I have never conversed).

        I’m just a middle-aged, white American country boy who was introduced to this fun site by a friend who is – like yourself – far more cosmopolitan than I. 🙂

  4. if we drink we will die, if we dont drink we will die … so we might as well drink, cuz if we drink we will be high

    sober sucks … tho ultimately it doesnt matter if we are flying sober or flying high … it is the scope of accountability with which we can fly (that is a measure of our consciousness)

  5. I might be good to let Osho sneeze here three times: Life Death Love

    (…) Death is already happening. Death is an absolutely necessary process for life to be. It is not the enemy, it is the friend.

    Death is already happening. Whether you face it or not, whether you look at it or not, it is already there. It is just like breathing. When a child is born, he inhales. He breathes in for the first time. That is the beginning of life. And when one day he becomes old, dies, he will exhale.

    Death always happens with exhalation and birth with inhalation. But exhalation and inhalation are happening continuously. With each inhalation you are born; with each exhalation you die.

    So the first thing to understand is that death is not somewhere in the future, waiting for you, as it has been always pictured. It is part of life; it is an ongoing process-not in the future, here, now.

    Life and death are two aspects of existence. simultaneously happening together.
    Ordinarily, you have been taught to think of death as being against life. Death is not against life-life is not possible without death. Death is the very ground on which life exists. Death and life are like two wings: the bird cannot fly with one wing, and the being cannot be without death. So the first thing is a clear understanding of what we mean by death.

    Death is an absolutely necessary process for life to be. It is not the enemy, it is the friend. And it is not there somewhere in the future, it is here, now. It is not going to happen, it has been always happening. Since you have been here it has been with you. With each exhalation it happens-a little death, a small death-but because of fear we have put it in the future.

    The mind always tries to avoid things which it cannot comprehend, and death is one of the most incomprehensible mysteries. There are only three mysteries: life, death and love. All these three are beyond mind.

    So mind takes life for granted; then there is no need to inquire. That is a way of avoiding. You never think, you never meditate on life; you have simply accepted it, taken it for granted. It is a tremendous mystery. You are alive, but don’t think that you have known life.

    For death, mind plays another trick: it postpones it. To accept it here and now would be a constant worry, so the mind puts it somewhere in the future-then there is no hurry. When it comes, we will see.

    And for love, mind has created substitutes which are not love. Sometimes you call your possessiveness your love; sometimes you call your attachment your love; sometimes you call your domination your love-these are ego games. Love has nothing to do with them. In fact, because of these games, love is not possible.

    Between life and death, between the two banks of life and death, flows the river of love. And that is possible only for a person who does not take life for granted, who moves deep into the quality of being alive and becomes existential, authentic. Love is for the person who accepts death here and now and does not postpone it. Then between these two a beautiful phenomenon arises: the river of love.

    Life and death are like two banks. The possibility is there for the river of love to flow, but it is only a possibility. You will have to materialize it. Life and death are there, but love has to be materialized-that is the goal of being a human. Unless love materializes, you have missed-you have missed the whole point of being (…)

    CIA O

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