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A few people have asked me to post this poem - I did not write it, but I gave it to my stbx last night along with my final goodbye letter. Someday he will have to face the man in the mirror and I know he won't like what he sees.
The Man in the Mirror
When you get what you want in your struggles for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn't your father or mother or wife
Whose judgement upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
Some people might think you're a straight-shooting chum
And call you a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
For he's with you clear to the end.
And you know you've passed your most rigorous test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you can't face the man in the glass.
The Man in the Mirror
When you get what you want in your struggles for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn't your father or mother or wife
Whose judgement upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
Some people might think you're a straight-shooting chum
And call you a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
For he's with you clear to the end.
And you know you've passed your most rigorous test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you can't face the man in the glass.
by, Matthew T. Borders
The fiddler of life played a tune
Him and the fiddle of life under a harvest moon
He played a lonely song, the one of the dead
It went through the valley and into my head
So I sang along
With the Fiddler's song
The song swelled and found a man upon a knoll
And he played the guitar of the soul
The song swelled and found yet another man
And he played the drums of the land
The fiddler, the guitar player, the drummer and me
Had a song that music couldn't see
We played chord, and then two more
Even better than before
But soon we realized the meaning of this tune
And wept with the fiddler, under the harvest moon.
My stbx will also have to face God one day. I can hear the conversation now: God: Now let's talk for a minute about the sixth commandement; you know, the one about cheating. . ."
Stbx: "Gulp!"
I don't think that's going to be a real great day for him.
I admire that you had the courage to write a goodbye letter and send the poem.
Hugs to you.
Thank you for posting. It is truly a wonderful poem. I am so glad that I can look at myself in the mirror and be proud but as for the ex, that story does not have a happy ending.
Hurting, one day, that judgment day is going to come.