A game of eyes

It starts with the eyes because it always starts with the eyes. Where else is there to look that will give some hint of what lies within? What has happened to you? Where have you been? Where is life taking you? Where do you want it to take you? Where is the one calling to me? Are you that one?

And though I have said it before—that there is a difference between reading out of something and reading into something—in truth, I am still trying to figure out what it means, where that line is between what I want to be and what it is being presented to me. Because not every opportunity has been an opportunity to grow and learn. Sometimes I have settled for running away from my life, from the truth—and I have used eyes like yours to do it.

What is it that I feel justifies such cowardice? Only my own weak will to say what needs saying and do what needs doing. You have been one and then another and then the next one after…but you have never been for me.

These eyes of yours see out from the page, from the wall—even out from both nightmare and dream. But they never stop asking questions I cannot answer in the moment. It’s all so ingloriously confusing. And some might call it love while others call it lust. Still others would call it innocence yet maybe too indifference.

When should I stop reading what’s there, when should I stop asking if it’s me doing both the asking and the answering. But I could just ask, right? And what happens then but the next step in all this endless unfolding of the endless “now”—you speak and I must then reconcile what you say is so with what I perceive to be so. And then all those who came before you, they speak in that special language only experience tutors one in. And then, too, there is what I want to happen, what I want to be the truth.

A game of eyes

How can any of us continue existing like this, enjoying it as the game we all make out of it? Because if we didn’t maybe everything from communication to the biological imperative would end in a bloodbath. But we do continue and to some, yes, it is a game. You can tell it isn’t for me. It is scripture. It is verse. It is oftentimes perverse. But never a game.