Analysis of Facial

It is not me.
My wrinkles, my sunken eyes,mistrusted frames all are the magical works of divine time
neately knitted with the  golden and silvery threads
embroidered in  sophistry;  
The old lady  of the moon with  always a smiling face  weaving  but with a pitiless hand.
Sinking  a  face within a face .
A mirror within a mirror
Even i do not recognize me.
A pure deception.
But a soul always without a little increase or decrease.
A shadow broken and dispersed but always contemplating and recombining   itself.
A machinery always reviving
and i find it in secret ,undestructable.