The Mirror Within — A Poem On Svadhyaya (Self-Study)

The Mirror Within,

A poem on Swadhyaya I walked a road I thought I knew,

Each step a copy of the last.

Chasing tomorrows,

Fleeing truths,

My present buried in the past.

But once till night I paused and turned,

Not outward but toward the flame,

The quiet spark I'd long ignored,

The part of me I could not name.

No textbook held this secret map,

No voice could speak what lay inside.

I had to sit,

To breathe,

To feel,

To meet the self I used to hide.

A thought would rise,

A memory call,

A shadow flicker in the mind.

Instead of running,

I remained,

To look,

To listen,

And to find.

I met the paths I'd cast away,

The fear I'd dressed in borrowed grace,

The dreams I shelved for safety's sake,

The child behind the practiced face.

And in that deep unguarded space,

Where silence writes what words forget,

I saw myself,

Not as a role,

But as a soul becoming yet.

Each breath a teacher,

Soft and wise,

Each wound a book with ink still wet.

The mirror was not cruel or kind,

It simply showed what I had set.

This is the art of looking in,

Of tending truth like sacred fire,

Of peeling back the layers worn,

To reach the pulse beneath desire.

So I the turn,

Again and again,

Not seeking perfect,

Only true.

For every time I meet myself,

I learn to live as someone new.