The Spirit Door's

Silver streaks of reflective stream,

The mirror's always talking.

The shadow stares, it moves in there

When you're slowly watching.

Turn your eyes, it moves in plight,

In -a- hasty glance.

As you sleep, it soon will creep,

The spirit door in wafting.

Bind, Bind! from corner and frame,

Close this lake of glass.

To keep them out is to keep them in,

Aeons they've roamed since parting.