Reflections in the Brass

Reflections in the brass base of the lamp bulge out, convex, contorted, unlike real objects below. I too reflect, and trust my own reflections lie square and true. And yet with all I know of education, self-interest, drowsiness, neglect, preoccupation, despair, who is to say I'm not another brass lamp base, perhaps, with a dent, a ding or two, to complicate the images that race around inside, that crowd, rush forward, speak together, that express what I claim to think I think? Give us, then the objectivity of clear reflection, plain, straight on, and let us give back, face to face, what's given us, without diminishment.

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