Everybody, you can stop being embarrassed for Narcissus:

I certainly have.

What’s wrong, if, while sitting by the lake one beautiful afternoon,

Narcissus were to gaze down into the water and catch a glimpse of the

Face of God

Gazing back at him? rather than that face of a stranger he had learned
To call his own.

Why shouldn’t he see the heavens and the earth caught between

The eternal rift of his shining black pupil?

Why shouldn’t he admire the beauty he, by nature, was granted?

--

If in studying his reflection he were to notice

That humanity really is a thing of beauty

Who could blame him for watching it wax and wane in his features?

And if he glimpsed his form and saw in it the ghost

Of the potential he possessed—

Well then, why shouldn’t he watch

And wait for his fate

To be revealed in the shadows of his face?

--

If in the proud curve of his jaw he

-- for just a moment--

Watched death’s decay bleach his bones

Then why shouldn’t he stare Death in the eye

And demand to know the whys and wherefores

Of mortality?

--

I just want to know:

Why are we embarrassed for Narcissus,

Who secured his immortality simply by

Gazing into his face and accepting the words

God had writ in it?

Why can we not face our demons down

And gaze into our own visages

And not turn away to the safety and comfort

The supposed sins of vanity and pride offer?

--

Narcissus saw the unimagined beauty

We all possess, but choose to ignore.

So God Bless you, Narcissus,

Warrior of the spirit

Philosopher of beauty and

Author of the soul.