The Mirror's Deception

When the mirror is there;
when one can only stare and ask why,
this is when
deception
is sitting across the table from us and
there is no answer
save an echo of the question.

Can any hope of reply
live perhaps in those pupils,
black and wavering
as you search?
Somewhere there seems to say,
does the moon live in its own shadow?

What anvil else
would one have,
would one trust,
but the delusion of wisdom
to beat one's self into shape upon,
this, the twin dark moons whisper,
is but one more revelation,
just one more small revelation.