The eye;
it holds so much but nothing can penetrate its depths.
A tangled mass of thoughts,
Spiralling through our brains,
A puzzle in itself.
Is there anything there?
We wonder,
We dream,
We speculate,
We wish.
Nothing but an empty void of vibrant colour.
Nothing to see but what meets the eye.
The eye.
And yet it is an open book, perusable by all.
It hides nothing,
Everything is in there,
Locked away behind sheets of glassy stares,
Of unconscious wanderings into the mind,
Of the human soul.
Why is there nothing to find when we seek it?
Barriers form, cementing us together.
Trapping the wonders,
The dreams,
The speculations,
The wishes.
We close up and we are gone. Empty.
Pieces of a puzzle.