Those Eyes

There are many types of eyes. Not only do they differ in color, but they also vary in size and shape: black eyes, green eyes, big brown eyes, asian dark eyes, small blue eyes and even Liz Taylor's eyes. Other very important traits that can be found in eyes are their shining, and their depth.

Everytime I go out, I find myself among a parade of eyes: a myriad of eyes come and go, some look away, some stare sternly, most of them just carry on with their day, and very few of them are the ones who really dare to see. Yes, only a small number of shiny and deep eyes dare to look, and this time I could not see them. How could I miss that? I just turned my back at such a display! Was I too busy with something else or was it too much for me to handle? I did look away, turning my numb eyes into the ethereal space of the same.
A myriad of eyes, and only a few dare to really see, only a few of them are innocent and prepared to understand, to receive, to absorb, and to give in abundance. The rest, like mine, just look, perouse, watch, and search. These are surviving eyes, dynamic eyes, pursuing eyes, wanting eyes, achieving eyes, the eyes of desire. They come in any color, size and shape, but they lack shine and depth. But not those eyes, those deep and bright eyes dare to be and that's all they do. Those eyes do not color the world, and do not take the shape of the circumstances.

One day I decide to explore the world with those eyes, and find out how difficult it is, how those eyes are not something I can place over my face, those eyes are perenneal and are not like the other eyes. I can do many things with the other eyes, I can choose not to show them, to look away, or to look down when I am ashamed. If threatened I can even turn my body to hide them. But I already told you that those eyes just are, and that is all they do. Then I think, I think how to get those eyes, I want them so much. I keep thinking, but nothing comes to my mind. My longing becomes an obsession, and I want to convince the world I got those eyes. I judge those other eyes, I despise them, they are so simple, they lack any substance. I keep wanting, but I still don't get what I look for, I grow in dispair and throw a tantrum. How come I don't have those eyes?

Then, any given day, I will wake up with my same eyes. I will not have needed to do anything or change anything. I will realize that those eyes have been there all along, and are just the same eyes, and that the only difference is that those eyes will be seeing from the heart rather than from the gut. These eyes will be thirsty of contact beyond the physical, they will be inviting eyes, welcoming eyes, happy eyes, eyes that dare to just be and need not do anything else. The world will look like a new place, the same way it looked when I had glimpses of happiness, and everyone will be a new chance of seeing myself, a mirror, a reflection that will change me.

Finally, these eyes will find you, and will recognize those eyes in yours, and maybe you will look away, maybe you will feel overwhealmed, but that will be OK too, because seeing your eyes, those eyes, is more than enough for me.