Qof

Odie O'Dool hath been a fool, soaked in drool he dreamt of jewels

But jewels now seemed like masks on clay — all glitter, gone by end of day

He walked with staff and breath held tight — till something moved just out of sight

A figure danced, then mirrored him — it laughed, but eyes were strangely dim

He followed it through shifting wall — a room he'd never known at all

The shack had held a secret cave — of mirrored glass and silent wave

Each pane he passed showed someone else — like Odie, but with borrowed self

The O appeared, reversed and slow — not leading now, but watching low

He saw a grin that wore his face — but in the eyes, no root, no grace

And Ohm appeared—but not as breath — just shadows dancing near the death

"This is the Qof," the mirrors sighed — "The back of truth, the holy side"

"You'll never see it full or fair — but it is real because it's there"

He blinked and bowed, unsure, unsure — and saw that doubt was something pure

One mirror cracked, then reformed round — not broken, just re-tuned in sound

He saw his mimic selves dissolve — the ones who chased but didn't evolve

He saw the mask he used to wear — and kissed it once, then left it there

No voice from Ohm, no guiding hand — just presence he could not withstand

And so he knelt, not out of fear — but to respect what won't appear

The room grew warm, the light turned blue — as if the false had let truth through

He stood, now facing what was gone — and knew the shadow made him strong

The O had vanished, not in flight — but woven in the backward light

And Odie smiled with nothing said — and bowed before the back of head