Your Glass

You're looking at your glass--what do you see?
Is everything distorted, made too small,
Too large? Is everything opaque, agree
With what you wish to see, an endless hall?
Perhaps you are one of those rare few for whom
The glass is clear as oxygen and burns
As bright to light your sight--you see the loom
Of all humanity, warps, woofs, and turns.
Perhaps, instead--more likely still--the glass
Reflects you back to you and you mistake
Yourself for all the world you see--you class
Yourself the measure every man must make.
If you're the rarest of us, preach what's clear,
You'll find the rest condemn you out of fear.