At the last moment,
all he could see was his own face–
a little shady, gray bearded,
nearly devoid of affect
but for a slight sloppy smile betraying
a sense of relief.
No need, then,
to explain himself again.
The face in the mirror
was all he had to answer to now,
and it already knew what would be said.
No reason he ever had to listen to anyone else
tell him things he didn’t believe.
No evidence worth considering would be presented.
At any rate, the swelling of that reflected face — once dear to him
but now repugnant, marked with his mistakes and
so unutterably lonely from all his repelling
of myriad approaches — was taking up so much
of what he could see that it was obvious
what needed to be done to quiet the nagging voice
that kept saying, “There’s more out there…”
when he knew it would just be more of the same.
More of the same. So he stopped looking.
“Enough,” he said. Enough. And made it so.