The missing piece

Now you recognize what the time has made to  you. The remaining hair on your head has become white, your skin has become flabby and no one can see youth in your smile. Since very long you've been loosing what was part of  you. In regressions at night on your bed you keep tracing new time-lines as if you hadn't lost that part of you. Would it be any different?
Let me go further: that missing piece was your art, your direction. We know well that it was also  your proud and your shadow and who knows your end. The path you chose molded you into who you are.
You kept running away from mirrors as they insist in telling you about the time. Facing it you remember all those glory days. Together you and your missing piece were everything; away from each other you both became nothing. As  you said, you never thought that you'd loose that bright in your eyes.
You can come back to life, comrade. It is up to you.