The window next to me offers a unique view while travelling at night. I can look at a faint reflection of myself against the background of the dark roads and the semi-luminous inside of the bus. I have been trying to focus on my reflection. The way the outline of my face emerges on the glass window, the way my eyes seem to stare back at me, it's rather reassuring. It's better than looking in a mirror surrounded by adequate light. The abundant light and the spotless screen makes your appearance 'hyper-visible'. This makes a few minority features rather less visible to discern. There's something in the mirror that tells you what you ought to do and acquire. It also tells you what you don't have and what you don't look like. Conversely, that reflection will remind you of the places inside where the dawn of civilization has colonized the yearnings to create and expand; like the Universe above and below. In the anti-colonial imagination and stirrings, those parts only seem to regress and devolve. Your desire to know and help them only orientalizes the effort.
Returning to the reflection in the glass window. I can see my eyes staring back at me. I can also see the outline of my face. I watch the dark fields go by, with an occasional distant light. On the edges of my face, I can see something appearing and disappearing. I can see a strand of white hairs making their way down gracefully. I can see eyes that are old and wise. I can see centuries traversed in those eyes. Then all of it blurs out. It starts raining. Streaks of water come down the window, as if separating me from the time that lay ahead through a symbol of time: water. Symbols separate man from essence. Symbols are only signifiers. I pray for a life that goes beyond symbols.
The reflection of sunset
On the advertisement board
And in my eyes
Scatters around in the Universe.
How liberating would it be
To leave whatever you associated
With your existence
In the form of differently colored shadows
To leave and sacrifice that
On the altar of a glance
From the eyes fashioned by centuries
Of recognizing after forgetting
Then remembering the recognized instant
Before drowning in a thin edge
Of a limited infinity: Then recognizing
Bereavement, without knowing
Why and when it happened.