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The Joy of Seeing Eyes

Updated on December 14, 2010

I love to look into people's eyes. To me, the eyes truly are the window to the soul. I am drawn to them, and through them, I seem to understand.

In a child, the eyes that make me happiest are the ones that are wide and full of wonder. They take in everything, and don't want to linger long on any one sight. They are amazed at anything new, and as soon as they are satisfied, they move quickly on to the next wonderment. The saddest child's eyes are the one's that are wary, and look away before you can get a chance to let them see the offering of trust in your own. They don't dare trust what they see, as something before has proven uncertain.

A child's eyes are the easiest to believe, as they haven't had the years of experience that can develop deceit or false readings.

My favorite eyes are those that are soft, and calm. They have most likely seen many harsh truths, but, all in all, they have come to be easy, and restful in what they believe. They are the eyes of my comforter, my friend.

The eyes of distrust, I don't read well, because I don't care to linger there long. These eyes are too sad to share more than a moment of acknowledgement. I wish more for them; for a happy twinkle, and a realization that a smile at the corner is worth the return. The hard, angry eyes of the rude people make me sad for whatever ugliness they've witnessed and chosen to keep set in their darted looks. They cause my own eyes to wince, and look away.

I heard a nice voice years ago, and I saw a strong man, but, I wouldn't know him until I could see his soul. Upon meeting, the dark glasses were a hindrance. We met, we talked briefly, then the glasses were removed - they are soft eyes, the best eyes. I smiled, I knew.  At times, he will catch me stealing long looks at his soft eyes; and he tells me I am the only one to have ever made him blush. He has beautiful dark amber eyes.

The sister with very happy eyes; I have seen them filled with sadness and worry, but, mostly, they are hopeful for happiness, and through them, there is happiness.  Another, with wise, yet gentle eyes. They are more complex than most, as they search for the truth in Word, and in others. They have seen such sorrow, then in too short a time, have shifted back to the task at hand, and continue their search for truth.  Yet, another pair of beautiful eyes, too long ago seen; too long ago have I seen, and truly understood what it is they are looking for.

Two boys with very different eyes show two men with different journeys. One, refusing to let go of that excited wonderment of youth; they tease, and smile, and shine with joyful silliness. It makes me a bit sad that adult worries have tugged at some of their merriment, but, they'll hold on, no doubt.

The other has the eyes of a soulful wanderer, seemingly tired, yet kind and hopeful. They see so much, and have a deep, caring stare, yet stay shielded and concerned. There are times of pure joy in those eyes, and those are the looks I choose to hold closest.

I used to feel I had nice eyes; they are ill now, and resting against my will. Not sad, or defeated, but, unable to show what I feel. They may be back, and until then they will continue to look, and see, and know.

Share a look, dare to glance, feel free to stare . . .

When you start seeing, you start to understand.


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