eyes
they say that the eyes are the window of the soul
and they had a solid point, but it can go further
it is that maybe that the soul is projected in the eyes
that the colours that they see the world through
is the landscape where the soul reaches for itself;
dark brown eyes, the colour of the mud
clog on the objects and make them heavy
too much of a burden to carry them around
useless and slow, they move toward other objects
that will make them weary and tired again;
light blue eyes, ghost like
they pierce through everything
they do not carry it within
sensitive and understanding
they have nothing that link them to the ground;
green eyes, the midle point,
nature is reflected in them
with its lawness and its flow
nothing might to stop them
but they never forget a shade;
eyes seek themselves, to match
and be with their own kind
in all the tints left unrecorded
what the soul call with the name of feelings
might be only the eye approaching its colour.
