I seek to connect with the divine,

yet all I find are mirrors of the mind.

Tetherd in a frame so fragile,

Allowing me to think more agile.

I think to craft a better life,

And so I conjure up a butcher knife.

To slash my eyes out of the mirror scraping-off reflective glass,

Until it resembles diamond ash.

Carve the weakness from my mortal mind,

And let the spirit wander blind.

For that seems ...