The puddle is silent; in time’s glass, the world bends. In the reflection, shadows weigh like secrets that refuse to be born. It never lies, it reveals who we are when the light breaks apart. The light becomes a scale, recording fears and memories left behind. Shadows lengthen the contours almost touching consciousness. Under the rain, secrets take space without asking permission. I gaze and yield; carrying that weight is also recognizing oneself. Every wave dents it, but does not dissolve it entirely. The reflection remains a truth that does not lie, and comforts.