The eyes are the window of the soul. Ever looked into the eyes of the dead? There is no animation, no life, there is something familiar about them, yet they’re not altogether recognisable. No soul, just an empty shell. Ever seen the dead walk? I see it most days when people can’t lift a smile, nor acknowledge another’s existence. No joy, no spring in their step, just weighed down by the routine trials of life. It’s an eerie sense of hopelessness. And so wondering into soulless eyes I wrote…
Suburbs,
Patchwork houses,
Shoulders slumped, eyes cast down,
Death
Yet it only takes a small amount of light to expel the darkness. Exchange brokenness for beauty, and despair for hope. Along the same streets beauty is found in the innocence of a child, and a smile is given with neither blemish nor stain. Just the purity of innocence in child’s play. And so I wrote…
Small boy,
Shouts daddy play,
Excited giggles, eyes light up,
Alive
(And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven – Matthew 18:3)
