Eyes

                                                                                                                                                     Cleveland Noel

Eyes

Eyes are the portholes of a soul, telling
the state of things without to one within, and
that within, to those without. I chanced to meet
a wealthy man, a Midas of the modern day;
his gold never gleamed bright enough, and
his diamonds didn’t sparkle quite like
he thought they should, his fancy cars
always seemed a tad slow, and oftentimes,
sitting alone in his grand old mansion, he’d
imagined that another room, maybe
a banquet hall, or a ballroom, or even
both, would be enough to quench his thirst
for ever more, ever more, ever more…

And the poor old wretch I’ve often seen
sweeping the walk at the old stone church
has in his eyes that golden sparkle which
shines from within, like the ancient gold
of a sunken merchant vessel, glimpsed 
by a curious diver, through an open
porthole...