Reflection
In the mirror of fire I glimpse my own reflection. This body, too, must one day burn— those who gather at the pyre will define a life in endless adjectives: who stood close, who stayed away, how far honesty endured, how sinful, how flawed in nature, how much of the earth’s torment was carried on this path. Every man becomes a mirror in the life of another. I was watching myself in that fiery mirror. I carried debts like a dog— to those who tossed me bones stripped of flesh. Out of sheer hunger my gratitude is owed most to them. What they saw in me— though I knew— I never began a revolution, never raised a protest, never tried to be otherwise. With this dog’s life I agreed, a hundred percent, and I made it my pride to conceal this truth. Selling the values of life for the cheapest price, yet surviving— when I looked into the mirror, the reflection was that of a stray, gazing sorrowfully at the soul, seeking the true face behind the mask. In this world ...