Through A Glass Darkly

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