Upon the mirror of desire
How oft, in this harsh and hasty world of strife,
Where men contend and crowns are forged in woe,
Doth reason falter, swept by tides of life,
And lofty purpose yield to what winds blow?
For I, with trembling soul and weary thought,
Did mark my triumphs, dearly earned and frail —
Yet found, by fate’s caprice, my nature caught
Within the scales where others’ deeds prevail.
What hours, what golden days, are idly spent
In mimic pageant, shadows not our own?
What hungers press us, ever discontent —
Are they our seeds, or foreign tares thus sown?
Is’t mine, this thirst for gold, for fleeting praise?
Or doth the world its mask upon me lay?
Do I, unknowing, wander others’ ways,
And lose my voice in echo and in play?
Now stand I here, and all the noise is fled;
The forest silent, save for one tree’s fall.
Who am I then, when masks and dreams are dead?
When none but I do hear my spirit’s call?
O teach me, Time, to know what is my own —
And let me walk unseen, but not alone.
I believe we do not reflect enough on just how competitive the society we inhabit truly is, nor on how the cognitive dissonance that floods our minds distances us from our own ideals.
The other day, I was pondering what I consider to be my own achievements—those things that are now better than they once were, those personal advances that have demanded both learning and effort from me. It is interesting to have discovered that, in one way or another, I tend to compare myself with others, for better or for worse, as if personal growth were some sort of comparative grievance.
How many hours of our time do we spend striving to become mere imitations of others? I found myself wondering: how many of our goals are truly our own, and how many are simply imposed upon us? Is it truly our desire to have more money? Or to seek greater recognition, more beauty, or more influence?
Now I ask myself who I am—or rather, who I am when I am not another, when the other does not exist; who am I when the tree falls and I alone hear its sound?