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An Ode to Your Eyes

(I wrote this one springtime evening with some sacred assistance from plant brother Indica)


An Ode to Your Eyes


Opening your eyes

is like opening a hall of mirrors

I see the fire of passion

burning in some

In others, the springtime breeze

ripples through

I see a million ideas

of things we’ve not yet done,

but could

And a hundred words

not yet written, spoken or rhymed

The desire burns through,

cooled by the watery depths

of your endless emotion.

I could get lost at sea,

there in the mirrors

of your eyes

What happens when I surface?

Dare I look away?

Your eyes hold the darkness

of the limitless impossible

And the brightness

of remembering that I AM

They dance to a beat

only heard when

those two portals are open

like windows of a jazz club

letting out the music

into an otherwise still night

And yet

Those eyes are mornings brightness

The precious moments

spent before the world awakens

Traffic enlivens out the window

And on the street below

people forget their dreams

as they rush toward trains

instead of their hearts desires

That first light, new beginning

sweetness

Your eyes are the whipers of welcome

They couldn’t possibly lie

They hold such truth

Such novelty unseen

Unknown, until it is.

Those eyes.

I want to meet them.

I want to see in them

The dance of a lovers embrace

Never to be separate again.

When the light shines just right,

I see who you were before

the you that I know now

I see the unmistakable medicine

that will not withhold its essence

Let them sing

Let them dance

Let them tell stories

Stories of who I was

Stories where I’ve been

Truths of my heart over lifetimes

Let them help me re-member

Let them spark the memory

of times when the heart

was not a lonely hunter

Let them awaken

Let them enliven

Let them turn stones to men

and snakes to women

And then we will unite

in a Great Vision

becoming a seer of the life-force

And merge with that Great Power

Great Spirit Vision

Joie de vivre

In your eyes

Oh, Great Mirrored One

Your eyes are my own

and I cannot turn away

Every mirror reminds me

of what we have lost

or buried too deep

But when you come alive again

I know that the sacred portal

has been opened.

And Great Love

is possible again.

And I will worship

in that hall of mirrors

And I will take the vow

to never lose sight again

Your eyes, my eyes.

Who I Am.

Spirit.

Home.

Home of Spirit.

Amen.




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