Published
I saw an eye. A beautiful bluish green eye. It felt so real, full of warmth and assurance, even though it was not attached to a face. Suspended, framed by darkness. It felt female, Egyptian, painted with classy boldness. The eye was calm, blinking slowly now and again, but staring steadily. Not at me; at least not at my face. It was, I believe, looking straight into my soul, whilst I looked at it with my eyes closed. Then it vanished!
I have so longed to see that eye again. I saw a poor replica by chance in a museum in Oslo. It lacked the life, the warmth, the connection.
I have yearned to see you. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, it felt as if you were arriving once more.
I saw your form taking shape, like…I cannot find the word...wait! Like Scratch Art!
My heart started to beat faster; the muscles of my body became tense trying to will you into existence. Suddenly, your gathering features dissolved…
I have since accepted I may never see you again, not with these eyes. But you are etched onto my soul. Body and mind have wondered, without expecting an answer, why you came.
Today, (or was it yesterday?) the answer fell in a sudden downpour of acid rain. This, I believe, is why your steady, calm beauty haunted me: to provide a protective lining for the reception of your burning message.
Pay attention!
Every thought I have ever had, pales into incognisance.