Old Piece...

I Passed Through the Looking Glasses
As I pass through, my breath remains behind. I hope it follows me through soon enough, but if not, this isn’t such a bad place to suffocate. I see the stories of a life lived from the inside of a silky, pressed porcelain parchment. Strangely, it’s dark inside despite the radiance that seems to shine outward. You are fair; you are sublime.
And I do not just pass out such an adjective without great care. I am methodical in my thought, in my labyrinth. I am aware and attentive to what you are not, to what you are. You lead the word effortlessly through the winding corridors and past my lips though. Yes, I say it out loud as well, but you’d never know that. Times New Roman, Arial, Verdana and Franklin could never possibly replicate the deep breath behind my voice or the shortness of breath thereafter. Oh, it seems as though my breath has caught up to me. Good, I like it here.
I’d give up my breath again to look around some more, but surely the circumstance would not allow it. It is what it is, but it is bittersweet. I would say it is more bitter. Regardless, I endure for the over concentrated sugary sweet that I am afforded hither and thither.
I know I have to go back through at some point, but I will put it off as long as I can. Do not wake me. Do not stir me. Let me be. I’ll come out soon enough, surely. If nothing else, you’ll make me, but please allow me to stay for just a little while longer. Allow me another quick look around.
Life has painted your walls this clockwork shade of orange. There is writing, on opposite walls, that reminds you to love thy sister and remember thy mother. Over on the right your prize buck is mounted with, fittingly, a prominent rack. I see one of those model ships in a bottle with a mount that is marked “Papa” sitting on a shelf beneath him. Then there, in the middle of the room, it appears as though a leprechaun and the talking rabbit were playing dice. That spotty memory, you know. It’s a good thing you take notes.
I suppose I’ll leave now. I’ll turn right around and come back through those looking glasses though, the clear framed ones, not the black ones, and I’ll look around some more. Maybe a new place will be open for exploration. I shall again vainly make an attempt at bringing my breath in with me, but if I can’t, I’ll come just the same.
You are exclusively sublime.