Her Eyes - 2

Her Eyes — Like Still, Deep Lakes

Her eyes…

Those eyes —

Still as a lake at midnight,

Deep as forgotten dreams,

Were dear to me.

I watched them often,

Every evening quietly,

As she sat upon her rooftop ledge,

Gazing — unblinking,

Into the horizon’s fading line.

As though she gathered dreams,

From the amber sky at dusk,

To fill the parted hair of earth

With the sacred vermilion of twilight.

Perhaps that’s why

She fixed her gaze so steadily

On that distant place —

Where the sky bends down

To fold the earth in its arms.

On her pale, still face,

Only those eyes shone bright,

Alive with a silent song,

A whispered light.

In the darkness,

They flickered like twin lamps —

Two flames softly burning,

Dancing in a silent storm.

Or maybe two lotus blooms

Floating on a motionless lake —

No ripple, no breeze,

No whisper or stirring,

Only a stillness so deep,

It held the whole world inside.

Her unwavering eyes

Reached past the horizon —

A bridge where sky meets soil,

Where dreams are born and linger.

And I —

I longed to be the reflection

That trembled upon that glassy lake,

To find a place within her vision —

To plant my image there,

A silhouette between sky and earth.

To see her pupils flutter,

To watch those quiet waters dance —

Born of me,

A joyous, trembling light.

But no —

She watched on,

Without stirring,

Without turning,

Eyes fixed forever

On that boundless edge

Where dreams touch the sky.

---

Then one day —

She did not come.

A strange unease settled deep in me.

The world felt colder, darker,

Silence heavier.

One day passed, then two, then many more.

She never returned.

My heart, aching,

Wandered in restless questioning.

What had happened?

Why did she vanish

From that sacred place

Of endless watching?

No answers came.

Time stretched like an ocean.

She became a shadow —

Fading softly

Into the misty past of my soul.

---

Years later,

I walked that old alley once more —

Each brick whispering her name.

My eyes searched,

Longing for those deep, still lakes —

The eyes that once painted

My untouched, youthful dreams

With colors no artist knew.

Lost in memory,

I heard a truth like thunder:

The eyes I had worshipped,

The eyes in which I had drowned,

The eyes I thought mine alone —

Now light another’s world.

Before death could claim her,

She left behind those eyes —

Windows to a distant flame,

A gift to guide another’s path.

Now, someone else sees

Through her eyes,

Dreams, lives, loves —

Bathed in her silent fire.

Among millions,

I no longer know which eyes hold

The soul of my beloved.

I search, endlessly,

In crowds, in strangers,

Hoping to find

Those twin lotuses,

Those still, deep lakes.

---

And in this endless search,

I carry her dreams —

Dreams perhaps never fulfilled,

Never rooted, never grown.

They live within me —

Not as blossoms,

But as thorns —

Soft, persistent, eternal.

They will pierce my heart

All my life,

In the name of love,

And memory

Of her eyes,

Still as lakes,

Deep as dreams.

---

Her eyes…

Like silent lakes at dusk —

Forever etched

On the horizon of my soul.