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Eyes of God
Maybe if I close my eyes long enough
this will all just disappear.
I’ll wake up to the eyes of God and
his voice whispering in my ear.
A dream,
this life, can be so cold and cruel.
A dose of awareness here and there
isn’t quite enough to soothe.
Far away I wander
through valleys of the mind,
to ease my curious wonderings,
to slowly pass the time.
But with this steady rhythm
of the beating of a heart,
I tenderly press my ear to it and
silently fall apart.
How does one so effortlessly
calm my unreserved soul?
Your hands are weaving, through my heart,
webs of solid gold.
Beads of sweat drip down my cheek
and glisten in the sun,
as I bask in the glory of your cool embrace
and enjoy being no one.
And then I look up
into the eyes of my hero,
the soul that my soul once knew.
But I am jerked awake as I fall through
a veil of forgotten past truth.
And here I am again,
stirring in my bed.
Who is this familiar stranger
wrapped inside my head?
Copyright ©
M. A. Ceilidh
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