Those Eternal Eyes
The eyes of the eternal stare relentlessly into my soul,
as if I am tissue paper, a diaphanous mold
without substance, so unremarkable, expected,
and I feel that turn within, a reluctance
to contend, just the feeling of vulnerability.
Am I tarred with a common brush,
a touch of repetition or an aberrant soul,
a division I cannot see but must attest in my being,
or perhaps in the scope of my lives I’ve thrived
or even been denied the cessation of suffering?
I crumple under this scrutiny, this knowing
from eyes of timeless ilk,
where worlds rise and fall and lives inveterate
get lost in the flow of change,
where the broader view is misconstrued.
I am but a humble facet of a soul in time’s regalia,
fathoming each twist and turn,
each echo of duplicitous beings a stretch,
etched into my learning at cost, as lost I can become
within the flow of so many lives, concurrent.
Those eternal eyes burn my flesh,
for I am inept, incomplete and striving to be whole,
yet I feel their gaze as if I need respond,
answer for my humanity,
while I desperately try to hold my sanity.
I am so small, so insignificant within the eternal,
yet these eyes demand my control,
my sufferance to lead to something more,
but why am I so required to uphold some notion
within which I cannot hold, just for myself?
I am the fabric, a stitch in a woven infinity,
and perhaps we each cannot be without the whole,
each one of us an essential connection,
without which the universe just folds,
and existence no longer there at all.
This soul is forever restless,
in transition and exposed, as those eyes hold their gaze,
and I cannot avert the attention,
just accept the expectations that refuse to go,
and perhaps I should simply look within,
the universe will have to wait as I mediate my sins.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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It’s interesting how similar we feel. I too feel the penetration of those all seeing eyes. They have haunted me most of my life. Yet Tony, I feel and know that it’s meant to be, it’s those eyes, souls and spirits from the past that linger about us, give us the will to pen on, guide our every stroke, wanting us to convey messages to others, why? I don’t know, I just feel their presence about me. Maybe we are part of the chosen here on earth to express our souls to others. I agree we are so small and insignificant within the eternal cycle of life, but we must carry on, abide, share. For there are lost souls who benefit from poets words in many ways. Well expressed and kudos always to your inspiring work. I am often moved by it.
Glad you relate and yes I agree, it is our purpose and that’s what I always hold on to, it drives me forward. I appreciate, as always, your kindness my friend. Thanks Vincent.