Hotel Nebelrand

_Room 707, Hotel Nebelrand_  
_22 April 1939_

They say a mirror holds the truth that halls conceal.
Yet here – this glass shows only what it dares to steal.
A stranger's eyes inside my own, pale silver at my side.
Petals blushing ghostly white, as if ashamed to have not died.

Is ours meant for revelry, not reverie, tomorrow the Grand Duchess reigns—
Charlotte’s gala, shimmers in the city’s wins.
Candles drop their waxen pearls along the balustrade,
And laughter trembles, velvet draped, in every masquerade.

But how many doors must open twice before one learns to doubt
Whether the ballroom lies ahead, or time itself runs out?
A corridor curved behind me as I left the lift— an adieu!—
Echoes walled with my own steps, shadow dancing candlelit.

Mirrors, mirrors – Tell me why
The lilies bloom, then bow and sigh?
Why telegram static in the midnight gloom
Hums with lost voices, warnings of doom?

I write this not as man of reason, nor as lord of fortune's grace,
But as a guest suspended, held between, two breaths in this uncanny place.
My gloved hand trembles: the fountain pen bleeds a river's blue—

Rhymed or reasoned, nothing holds;
The lilies write the hours folds
Grand clocks tick backward in a letter never opened
A secret shifting in the cracks,
Tonight, beneath the bells last toll, I found such an envelope sealed—
Yet now the window shows a morning veiled.
While my watch— impossibly— has sealed,
Its hands at midnight, trembling, stilled.

Leave the lilies page tomorrow or before. Remember—
Hotel Nebelrand never locks a single door.
It merely waits, and in the end.

Tomorrow the gala glimmers, yes. But will we dance, or only guess
Which shadow leads, which guest returns,
Which envelope, unspooned, burns?

– ???