The Chinese lady optician, her upbeat manner <br />coming over rather strangely in her pronunciation, <br />peered deep into my eyes, though giving no sign <br />of having found my soul there. <br /> <br />My roving mind suppressed something between <br />a giggle and the heard sound <br />of holy laughter – as of a group of nuns <br />laughing at the teasing of Our Lord, <br />or the cow-maidens laughing on the river-bank <br />of cool clear mountain water, at <br />the mischief of that boy Krishna… <br /> <br />and through my mind, scrolled the Book of Psalms – <br />… I lift up mine eyes unto the hills… <br />…O Lord, help me in my unbelief… <br />…look upon me with Thy merciful eyes, O Lord… <br />… and renew a right spirit within me… <br /> <br />now and in the time to come, <br />to focus on infinity… <br /> <br />The Chinese lady optician, <br />acting out inscrutable, <br />turned and wrote down in some timeless book <br />the record of my sins, visual, visible and invisible, <br />as in a glass, darkly; <br />but now, face to face, <br />resumed her study of how my mind if not my soul <br />has limited my vision.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/through-a-glass-darkly-3/
