She walks in beauty, like the night
     Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
     Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
     Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
     Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
     Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
     How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
     So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
     But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
     A heart whose love is innocent!

Her tears were rainbows,
a rainfall commitment to herself.

Never would she let that pain
again bring tears to her eyes.

Tomorrow was an olive branch --
a beacon of hope.

She'd long chased a raven --
a deliverer of despair.

So she resolved to become a dove,
to be strong in resolve
and a bearer of hope.

Every thought, every sight, every idea is built by WORDS,
You see a LEAF in color GREEN,
Feel HAPPY, CONFUSED, or MOLLIFIED.
But music is not so limited--
it is just sound, just pure emotion.
It does not go FEAR! CAUTION! WAITING!
but somehow, it's ***-Plulum-AaaRRUM speaks those thoughts far more clearly.
It filters between the lines of language like light through a cracked-open door
it drips from heaven,
unchecked.

I smile a lot
and never cry
my heart is soft,
my mind is sharp,
my eyes are dulled with truth.

My mistakes, shortcomings, errors, and failures, are as sand by the sea.
As his voice raises an angry wind, the sand hits my stinging eyes.

Other times, the waves of his affection wash wet and smooth the sand down, and we walk and look at the falling sun.

But even as we stroll, the sand sticks to my feet,
I know that sand will stay stuck to me.

The eyes are the greediest of the body.
The legs run to bring the eyes to see new things,
The heart pumps that the eyes may live to see another day.

The eyes, his, and all their organs search for her eyes and serve her constantly.
His hands work to bring music to her ears,
Sweets for her tongue,
All for a twinkle in her eye.

When his eyes saw hers catch the glisten of a tear,
His mind raced for an answer,
His arms drew her closer,
But alas: the tear was for him,
As her mouth told him that her heart was another’s.

And at that Truth,
While his heart dropped,
And his hands fell,
It was only after his eyes had clearly seen her leave,
That they blurred with tears.


Perhaps, the eyes are not the window to the soul, but, rather, the soul itself.
Through his eyes, he had seen all,
And because of what he had seen,
He was who he was.
And when those eyes blurred and crumpled and crumpled as his soul,
His body fell too –
Waiting for the eyes to see something new.