Mirror, Mirror

My sight is blurring from these fogged up mirrors,

My shirt sleeves refuse to be involved as I search for something else to clear them

And I can feel my reflection underneath the dirt,

It is yelling, but the fog is too loud,

I wonder if it can breathe under there...

Was it yelling for help? Or was it yelling for some sort of realization?

I notice my arms start to move furiously forward, reaching for something that always seems to be too far away,

Uncovering,

Revealing,

Like trying to run quickly, or scream loud enough in a dream,

And suddenly there is no mirror, 

But an ocean, 

At first it is raging and wild, 

But it is always calm after a storm, 

And as I unearth myself from the dirt that withheld me, 

My perception will clear like the water that releases me,

And I will see my reflection that holds a manifestation of the person I wish to become,

And when the clouds become too heavy, and when heat mixes with cool, 

I will trudge on, soul against the current, until I am unearthed and unearthed again,

Dirt embedded in fingernails, 

And reflections unclouded.