(A Mirror, A Lesson, and A Balm)

In the house where Love resides, a quiet hum,
A foundation strong, from which all graces come.
Here, everything swells—not just joy, but the growing pain,
The lesson that life is not a prize to attain.

Life is a bite we must recreate,
A recipe we learn that we can elevate.
It is a process, met with failure’s sting,
A simple truth, a tough and complex thing.
A bitter herb, a sweetness on the tongue,
A song that’s often sung before it’s sung.

But here is the secret, the balm for every start:
If you know you dwell in a house of love,
You hold the compass needle to your heart.
You can look into the mirror, not with scorn,
But to see the faces of the loved, the sworn—
The ones who, in your reflection, have a part.
See them in your heart, until you see yourself.

For that glass may not reflect who you wish to see,
The phantom of a perfect “me”.
Its surface might be marred by doubt and fear,
But if you dwell in love, the vision becomes clear:
You remember, deep down, you are love, right here.

So, rub the love balm onto your heart’s skin,
This salve made from your willingness to begin
To see yourself, to appreciate the art
Of all you are—each vulnerable, beating part.
For in this place of love, this sacred ground,
A sacred echo in your soul is found:
All that you send out, returns as love to you.
This is the lesson, timeless, pure, and true.

Love yourself. Respect the mirror you hold up.
Then watch the world, no longer bitter cup,
But a gleaming glass, that will emulate.
You are a mirror. Love is your true state.