Hall of Mirrors

My mind is a prisoner    
my prison a maze
of smoke and mirrors
that´s haunting my days
My path has no purpose,
direction or clue
But leads me around and around to
the echoing sound of
the question of Who are you?

My lover´s a riddle                     
for me to unfold
a thousand skewed glimpses
to leave or to hold
I long for some meaning
in all that I see                                         
and to trust in my trembling heart
to play its part in
the question of Who is he?    

In this hall of mirrors
I stumble about
embracing deceptions
to claw my way out
I cling to each image
and pray it´s no lie
Knowing that this I must solve
or life will revolve                          
round the question of Who am I?