His eyes hold open

trying to shut,
                          sitting there
on a bench near Solferino metro
his young, rugged face embellished
with late years – an early death, 
                                             perchance
--or the quiet contemplation
“how to use my time”

a transport of unframed mirrors 
moves past him on a delivery truck, 
              his visage 
                                warped 
appearing and disappearing
too quickly for him to consider
“if there is any time at all,”

the faces of citizens on the sidewalk
                move in reverse
(forward?)
        going about 
                          back to their 9-5,
pensive, tired people
members in a mirrored
			
                    otherworld
eyes gone 
                in thought(?)
exaltation(?) murder(?)
     madness(?) 
                                    hope(?)

The “Corps à Corps: Histoire(s) de la Photographie” Exhibition @ Centre Pompidou

Carl Jung, in The Undiscovered Self, wrote, “Even God seeks his goal.”

in paradiso, ego sum