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Mar 2020
Restless are the eyes that follow
searching out a purpose,
some nameless claim,
so warm, tepid,
and full of oceanic wonder;
those following two---
those damp spheres of shade.

Regrettably, a thought arrives---
I did not request your name,
lovely living statue,
found of selective voice.

Mark my posture
as a ship listing on the waves,
turn back to port,
turn back to safety,
return to the familiar
these things I know.

Pulse cease,
disquiet chamber
place hold and become stagnant,
meaning and reason please return;
human folly was born of myself,
and remains nameless,
such as my captive audience.

Such bindings of flesh and form,
build me to agony,
and remain a prisoner of chemistry
this creature, this mystery,
this name---
was never offered to me in kind.

I suppose---
there are things best kept hidden,
not spoken loud
as the heart manages its uttering
I walk down the hallway,
perceiving your gaze at journey's end.

Slowly still,
my footsteps fall in procession
and knowing not at all,
when the day concludes
such thinking is above my own
and I am left to wonder
if such a goddess was ever meant
to have earthly title.
EYES (I HAVE NOT SEE THE LIKE) Copyright © 2020
Andrew Layman
All Rights Reserved.
Andrew Layman
Written by
Andrew Layman
167
 
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