I look into the Glass.

         I look   into  the  glass      

                    

 Sitting  in  my  London  Apartment,

 not  merely  my living  room,

  a  place of my unique  identity

 and   resonance   and  tranquil, 

 I  peep  through   the  glass  doors,

  A  glimpse    leading  on  to

 profound   aura,  a discovery

 Of   self   and   surroundings.   

 Dark  wood, greenery, glory

and   ageless  Gift  of irredeemable

Faith   and  Pride.

 Birds   and    waters  and  rivers

flow unmitigated  and  in full gush,

 Still, somewhere,  unclear something

In the wooded  forest. Mystery is hanging.

Navigable  miles, unclear  thorns,          

Evil  is  not   Maya,  Not  only

Satan’s doing,  evil  is Creation’s

 augmented   necessity  with a  purport.