This was written for my music school's annual concert at the MET (museum, not opera). The theme was reflections. And the video is a recording of my performance.
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Written Oct 20, 2016; Performed April 28, 2017.
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A ripple makes an image, already unclear, even less so.
Hints of flesh, waved away by gentle breezes;
Or a glimpse of face, now swept beneath the surface.
Is it a mark of conceit to admire one's face, to caress the planes with gentle fingertips?
Do you descend from Narcissus if you can lose yourself within your eyes;
Leaning forward as you think over your life:
Analyzing every moment, assessing each decision.
Or will you tell me I'm Other: neither conceited nor narcissistic because my image is less clear than yours might be?
With only one eye from which I can see,
And the sun a brilliant ball behind me,
Much of what I perceive before me,
Is an image made on memory.
Remembered descriptions:
Eyes like blue opals, framed by thick lashes.
Or, from my own view:
Skin nearly matching the caramel latte in hand.
Much of what I observe,
Happens in my mind's eye.
The clearest view coming more from internal reflection,
Rather than external perception.
Then is this reflection different?
For I do not get lost in literal eyes.
Am I simply introspective?
Seeing vividly times past:
Learning guitar, quitting piano.
Living in each moment, with vivid recollection of every word I've ever written.
Yet unable to fully visualize what lies before my physical eyes.
In water, gently moving:
Verdant algae beneath the surface,
More vivid to my eye,
Than the eyes that see them.
Does my difference then invalidate my perception?
Narcissus could see his face, and so drowned to be with himself.
But I fill in visual blanks with mental imagery.
Leaving more time to ponder, and less for impulsivity.
Do I then hold the advantage?
A multitude of tools by which I can judge myself physically,
Instead of being limited only to one.
With senses and descriptions,
I build a fuller picture.
After all, sight isn't everything.
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