Slowly,
sinking into,
the depth of my own image.
Slowly ,
moving around as the blind man in the,
darkness of his world.
With,
the tip of my fingers,
feeling around for something ,
anything, to hold on.
out of a sudden there is a cry,
and,
a mirror,
inside which, I find a mirror.
in that mirror,
I see you,
calling for me

Hawar Moradi