Do I stare into it?

Picture credit: William Eugene Smith 
Man in picture: Charlie Chaplin

In everyone, there is a bit of everyone.
I wonder if we are all images
Of the same entity to whom,
We owe our existence.
Am I the actual object existing,
You and he merely images?
Why then do I adore him
And envy you?
It could also be the other way round.
I maybe the image, the reflection
Of whom I criticize, appreciate
Or mock at?
This world, the one within the mirror?
Or do I stare into it?