In this world full of mirrors
How clearly does one see themselves
Entertaining copious illusions,
Praying to find comfort by fostering absentmindedness
As clocks tick—
Seconds turning to hours,
Hours to years
Treading closer to ultimate demise
Oneself is a testament to the deaths that occur each moment
This endless search for innocence
In cloves of recollections
But when peering deeply
Reality is none were ever innocent
One can suppose,
Maturity is a shattering of illusions
Calling the soul to witness the horrors of itself
In crystal clear mirrors
Genuinely Jannah 