February 27, 2005
Eyes are a passage into the soul..
Yet also the window from inside the same.
They are the glass through which
an ever-present child-self
seeking solace from the goings-on
of time long forgotten, or rather,
quite deliberately evicted
from conscious memory.
But the body remembers,
as does the child.
Long she peers, hoping some passerby
will mark her existence;
better yet, that the grown woman,
whose eyes ever close to reality,
will finally admit she never died..
will grasp this truth:
Survival is not the ultimate ideal..
..and upon waking,
for the first time