Friday, October 16, 2009

Through a glass, darkly...

Mirrors are windows to the soul. They reveal parts of us, snippets of personality, of which we may not consciously be aware. Mirrors reflect lines on our face, furrows in our brow, blemishes on our hearts that aren't physically noticable. Yet there they are, staring us in our own unbelieving faces.

I don't understand what has happened to my life, or where the last seventy years have gone. I feel as though I look more like my grandfather than myself, worn with years I've yet to live. I feel cool and calm, like an old bit of the ocean, with the whole of my fire removed from my spirit. Where has my passion gone? Where are the days of my youth, dangerous and full of intrigue? Where, then, are the uncertain nights, one hand on the body of a lover and another on the hilt of a knife? My body still keeps one eye open when I sleep in a needless vigil for enemies that no longer come.

I wish I understood why. My only hope in understanding lies in the scripture, reflected in a mirrored metaphor:

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
1 Corinthians 13:12

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