EYE

Crease on the blackround

A wrinkle revealing light

One stained swivel-brained eye

Poised and balanced

Bursting golden out from his core,

This ocular marvel emanates clean:

Beams of sunlight, tarnished yellow,

Gently touch the scene

Mortical creeps dart down his long frame

This eye turns round to see them off

With creaks and squeaks he manages thus

Only, there are no more to see.

After all,

they live of pudding reminiscent of deep-sea.

His Spindly wisps of fingerling light

Man-o-war stingers to them.

First breath takes in and in and in.

All as much as possible.

Our friend, the swivel eye

knows of nothing much.

So he rips away essences of stuff

Just to feel and understand it.

Frantic pacings blur passage of time.

Soon all has been passed over with his touch.

He breathes up all he can of the world

"Picture this!" He knows. "A picture of things!"

For which he knows to himself, but can't explain

The colors confuse him so

Hours spent deciphering, familiarizing, self-discussing.

Still no closer than when he began.

The passing shapes of humans and place.

(though he knew of no names to fit)

After time well spent decoding every riddle

He came to a conclusion about it:

This is the world in which I am a part.

Then someone flipped off his switch.

Click! A droned-away humm droned slow to a stop.

The Light clicked off, the heart fell out.

Our friend returns to his previous state.

More shows to come at a later date.






I suggest reading this one twice, then telling me what you think. There is a comment's section, by the way. It exists.