In the presence of the reflection,
Shall I choose to cast my eyes,
Upon the figure staring at me,
This bit of twisted manhood?
Maybe I should depart this scene,
Allowing his image to fade,
Becoming dimmer with each step,
Taken in the opposite direction.
Contrary to intuition I remain,
Rooted in place, resolute.
Slowly my eyes are raised,
To cast their gaze on the image.
Fears are confirmed at first glance,
A terrible, empty man stares back.
A weathered, rutted face expresses,
Years lived, perhaps endured.
Hollow, dull eyes peer at me,
Their disturbing lack of spark,
Testifies to lost youthfulness,
A staid and fixed mind.
Closer examination determines,
The loss of the cosmic spark,
A mind fixed and enclosed.
The condition is terminal.
So hopeless has this man become,
That no course of action shall cure him.
Bearing witness to his affliction,
His relief can only be gained through destruction.
Perchance through death may he awake,
Cognitive functions rising to new heights,
Gray matter in harmony with the universe,
Creating a fully-realized consciousness.
I choose to die this death.
Today I die.