Self Image
By heinzs
Self Image Each morning the mirror mocks and taunts me. Who is that flesh that glares back at me from the cold glass? Those sombre eyes, the jowling cheeks pillared atop drooping shoulders. Is this reflection of a not-so-jolly, jelly-bellied dough boy wannabe Santa Claus a true depiction of me? In my mind's eye, mine own eyes closed, my image differs so from that which offends me. In darkened solitude and in dreams I am Adonis or Mars. Hermes rampant I soar, unfettered by gravity's sucking grip. My spirit flies free, only lightly chained to this earthbound anchor. I am Apollo, I am Michelangelo's David - in youth and stature. Statuesque, sculptured... wherefrom comes this image of perfection? Is it innate or cultural? It really matters not. My earthly form must needs fulfill its destined purpose. Until I, too, shall "shuffle off this mortal coil", I think I'll just avoid mirrors. 10/24/2001 Written October 24th, 2001 © on Jan 20 2002 07:10 PM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Self Image..."