Apart from the realization that       I am mostly what I have chosen to be, I see what mirrors reflect are accidents of nature. Celebrations of our genes, La Coste, and others. And that we can stay trapped in our own perceptions. In our visions of accidents and colours. We primp, pose, prepare -- Coquettes and beautiful people all. Striving to be a magazine cover in an unretouched world. In the silvered glass I reflect that it is a wonder I reflect. Reflect upon the the realization that        I am mostly what I have chosen to be, And that is no accident! Knowing that, I celebrate and rejoice, For I wish no one sorrow -- only Holy darkness. That place where one does not see; where one stumbles whilst Searching for beauty, not as it is seen, but beauty without accident. That Holy darkness of God’s shadow. And reflecting in a mirror a reflection from a mirror, In an endlessly shrinking image I see, It is no accident that reflections are anchored in mirrors, While the spirit soars with the angels.

Reflections Upon a Mirror ----------------------------------------

This appeared on Tadwell’s typewriter years ago, before computers and such.