Looking in time's long mirror 
What image do you see? 
One holding a golden basin 
For the hands of authority. 
We are haunted by the Roman 
Face, ominous and tired, 
As by the womanish gesture 
Of one who has desired 
To be free of choice: a burden 
Too heavy for old men. 
The image in the mirror 
Reveals itself again. 
The governor slowly washes 
One hand with the other hand. 
The soldiers wait, impassive, 
Obedient as the sand. 
We stare on that repeated 
Scene till our eyeballs ache. 
Will a sandstorm rise? Will the mirror 
Crack? Will the image break?