It must be time to get up

Any excuse to fill my cup

To get out of this chair

To take in some different air

The mechanisms are tense

Cornea, Iris and the lens

Focused and sharp

Like a razor to a harp

Capturing images, light and perusing

Peering across a radient sunset, percieving or sewing

Better to be absent minded staring into distance

Than screens burni...

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And what remains when time unravels
when chance enters without warning?
An invisible plot, a loose thread
and fate, which cannot be explained
appears with its indistinct face

It was me, and yet it wasn’t
I no longer know where mine begins
In the eyes I encounter
a broken reflection
a longing that has no words

Life folds, twists
loses itself in its own turns
And I, lost, am turned a...

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There are those whose eys, unable to contain the pain, have turned to glass.

There are those defiled, for sport or gain, whose eyes are now portals,

from which pure evil peers.

But equally sad are those eyes, seeing evil they can not comprehend,

So they pretend... they see nothing at all.

written  2016/ illustration by Marla Joy

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