Camera Lucida

This is where it comes down to.
Like in a lake reflecting,
A temple on a mountain, and a snake therein

In this grand human drama,
We too yearn to be preserved.
To be memorized in a frame, because
Passing through, we are destined for oblivion.

That this feeble reality,
With all its ecstasy and agony, is but a dot on an infinite plane.
Free of history, of future, of past, of regrets, of any burden,
We have come to this instance.

Strange,
That the mirror which captures us is itself captured by the other,
Which in turn by another

What remains after us is this moment, this reflection of images,
A proof that there was life, after all
But where is He who placed the first mirror?

Here, in the quincunx of mirrors, only He remembers…
Or perhaps He does not, that we who are the victims of memory,
We too have lived and loved.