Day 18 - Eyes

Pen Play: A poem-a-day writer's retreat in June

Hello beautiful friends, and welcome to Day 18! As well, Happy Father’s Day to all of you in North America and around the world who may be observing it <3 

I’d like to dedicate this post and poem to my own father whom I do celebrate on this day :) 

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They do say it often, but I still firmly agree that the eyes are the windows to the soul. In my social interactions, especially when I meet new people, I pay attention to the eyes, because they really tell me a lot (as does the willingness of their eye contact, usually more than is being said in words). 

(Conversely, I guess my particular brand of eye gazing can be intense for some of the folks I meet, or at least distinct ;D) 

I really love eyes, in so many facets, for so many reasons. They work multi-dimensionally and hyper-dimensionally. They facilitate the conversations we don’t often have, and allow us to receive a multitude of frequencies from a multitude of worlds. I even have “eye memories” of some folks and/or moments where the energy of the eyes captured everything and was all I needed to remember.

All that said, honestly, I’m not sure where this prompt came from; it was simply sitting on the page before me when I blinked. For all its mysterious arrival, I think it’s an extremely healthy one to explore. 

Today’s poem is inspired by the amalgamation of some of those eye memories, a zoom-in on some pairs that were important to observe and receive. It is a moment where the truth isn’t what it appears to be, with a story only the eyes could tell. 

It may not be your first instinct in the way that it is mine, but how do you engage with the eyes around you? How willing do you feel to share and receive through them? Is there something you tend to see? Is there something you wish to see? 

I invite you to gaze deep into this one today. Take your time, and observe. 

Much love <3

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Eyes

The wrinkles in the 
Corners of your eyes tell 
Me, yes, all you know.
.
.
I lean in close for a hug 
And out of the corner of my eye
See the corners of your eyes,
Folded and creased like a quiet letter.
Your eyes themselves
Don’t stay still for long,
Always in motion,
Always searching for another truth,
Like there isn’t enough.
They move and move,
But sometimes, they stay still long enough 
To line up with the wrinkles,
Quickly escalating to radiate like
A supernova,
And then the gate swings open
To the window of your soul. 

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