Windows of the Soul
Dedicated to Connie, the inspiration of both this piece and its writer. To me, the moon will never be the same.
They say that the first thing you notice about a person are their eyes: bright blue, eager to seek a day�s treasures; pale green, mysterious and enticing; charcoal black, brooding silently in dark thought. They do not lie. You can put a veil on to cloud the vision of others, but the eyes are the windows of the soul, a place so deep that it cannot be tamed.
What do I think? To me, the eyes are the last place I look. Perhaps I am afraid of someone looking in my eyes, seeing my deepest thoughts and secrets. Or I am maybe content to see only that which others choose to reveal, hiding behind a wall called respect. It is all too possible that I am satisfied with the physical, not bothering to see past the temporary and understand and love that which transcends the decay of time. Even now, I cannot recall even the simple eye colour of my closest friends, save one.
As humans, we seem to excel at choosing to ignore, sometimes even consciously, those symbols in our lives that remind us of that which is pure and genuine. We flood our minds with countless and pointless images that recall no more than a passing trend. A backward world indeed we live in, where our culture eclipses our hearts! Moments are rare now � we call them "once in a lifetime" � when we see from the soul�s perspective, and anything that stands out in those moments will forever remain a memorial of the time when everything was clear.
Yet, perhaps by some grace granted to us from above, these experiences come along at precisely the moments that we need them the most. An old man at the brink of death will see the hills and take comfort in their enduring. The chirping of a robin will forever hold a special place in the heart of a teenage mother. In the blink of an eye, a young man exhausted with existence will turn from jumping into a river to thanking his Creator for it. From these moments onward, these symbols will be a reminder of life lessons never forgotten.
They turn up in the most unexpected of places.
I smiled with my closest companion to the sound of music � Eric Cartman singing "Come Sail Away."
I danced in the rain with reckless abandon to the joy of a friend � almost in tears.
I discovered a nail-shaped birthmark, a reminder of my commitment to my Lord � while shaving.
I am only a young man. Barring disaster or accident, I will live to look back on many decades of a past I can call my own. Already, though, I have had many moments to associate with the things of nature. In moonlight, I laugh for joy; in the rain, I dance for it. My heart wells up with thankfulness at a fast-flowing river, and with peace in the bubbling of a brook. When I am old, I will walk and see a thousand things, each connected to a different memory and feeling and experience. Yet even in the light of all of that, and in the knowledge that great things are to come, one person in particular comes to mind.
Already I look up at night and see, full and bright, a not so distant reminder of her. I listen to music without words and words without music, and see her face in my mind�s eye. I recall the time, all too short, that I have called her friend, and revel in the understanding that, though brief, no other companionship has given me more in the way of these experiences, in number or in meaning.
And I know with complete certainty, too, that there is no person I would rather share them with.
For all this, the eyes are still the windows of the soul. They, more than anything, remain a reminder of her, and when I gaze into them, I need not lift my eyes to the moon, or hear the sounds of music, or any voice at all. I will not fear to look into them, for they too have come as an answer to my utmost need. To her I can say only one thing:
Your eyes are green.
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