I am A dirty mirror Observe the accumulated stain I have gathered the dust of ages Am covered in grime that sticks with relentless stubbornness Discolored and dyed into an unapproachable hue What is behind this layer of disguise? For I am a mirror What do I show? There is an image I have lived and longed to reflect It is so hidden and mysterious behind all that covers it All that hides its beauty I am a dirty mirror Yet Someone before me takes in His hand a cloth Covers it with His own blood His own blood It is pressed against my fragile glass Shivering and quaking I tremble beneath its power and tenderness He scrubs my tarnished surface Rubbing each corner and fractured edge With His own blood I want to draw away at times- It is not comfortable-this rubbing and scrubbing of my surface But I cannot- for I am a mirror. And what could I show if I were clean? He will not relent It is painful but wonderful. It is suffering miraculously changing me I love this Cleaner for cleaning me With His own blood Something appears as dirt, grime, and dust are removed An image appears for I am a mirror and I was made for this To reflect an image I’ve yearned for this- to reveal a beauty, What can I show? I am a clean mirror-a perfected reflection One gazes into me Eyes pierce my soul like flames of fire While I reflect them back His image revealed through me.