Through Our Eyes
It is difficult to recollect,
It is difficult to understand,
But when the sweet remembrances,
drift behind us,
like a bit of flotsome,
it becomes dangerous.
We forget ourselves,
and we forget why we were put here.
We forget why the human speciman is,
and we little comprehend our design.
When we let our inspiration run dry,
when our memory fire has been snuffed,
when we sit alone, with other friends and neighbors,
when we cannot even see our relationships linger on,
when we turn to another person and chant,
why are we so put on the planet?
To look into another's eyes and see,
that truly there might be some comprehending,
to look into your eyes and mirror,
the pain that is in them,
I know, I remember,
the happy child, the person present,
and it becomes us both.
We need to remember who we are,
to become again inspired,
and this comes through,
not living by a lonely campfire, blind,
but seeing those who sit with us,
and sitting down for a chat, perhaps . . .
but there is more yet that evades us,
and I could never make those spirits surround us,
for they are only snatches of things,
that our fingers cannot close upon.
There is much in life to vex indeed,
it can ne'er be accomplished.
In life, in death, and where we are . . .
no matter if it rains, storms, or hails,
we have confusion,
but, as long as we take the time to try,
to be, who we are in love,
then we will know,
of one person to another,
and of me to you-
through our eyes.