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Eyes

Motto: I Can See, thus I Exist

Eyes
  Ioana Bostan
varianta print

Ioana Bostan



Publicat Sâmbătă, 9 Septembrie 2006, ora 10:29

       In the beginning you see confused images and colors. Then everything gets into shape: beautiful things, ugly things, light and darkness. And this may come true only due to your own eyes. They are the ones that make you seize the world in all its appearances. What would I do without my eyes? Of course, the blind people, they live, too; but they can’t live the way I do. They are gone; half of their being belongs to the other side, the world of total darkness. I adore the night; it is magnificent, but lucky me, I can see the sky spreaded with sparkling stars and the moon, reflected into the sea mirror. Above all, I believe the night is even more fascinating than the day is. On its turn, the day has its unique beauty: light, sun beams, and warmth…
      It is the eyes that suffer the most. They look at good and evil and they reflect, they make distinctions, and they are hurt…
      You may see their pain: the water of our being, small drops – the tears. Sometimes, I feel like shouting and keep crying, I feel a tremendous need of breaking things around me, but I’m helpless. Something stops me, and then I let my tears flow down on my cheeks. One thing I know for sure: I never misuse them. On the contrary, they barely come to me. Some other times, I wish my eyes helped me free my soul, but they’re so stubborn and they wouldn’t; they just don’t want to give me my own tears. And I need them so much. At least a few drops.
      The truth is that my soul is emptied and petrified now and then, or perhaps most of the times. I’m trying so hard to moist my soul, but it’s so still. I’m not even able to move my eyelids. They are so heavy, iron-like. I can’t stand people pretending they are crying and acting so for the sake of it, because they can’t possibly feel it properly, they are deprived of true feelings, they don’t know the sense of the word “crying”, the moment you need it so badly.
      I also hate women who let their tears run chaotically, without any precise reason. I hate weak men crying; and despite all, I envy each of these lucky persons. But what’s the use…mine won’t do it and that’s the way it goes. Some say they are beautiful…blue…so what! You see, I love them, yet; even if they make me furious or if they don’t listen to me sometimes. They are terribly hurting me. My eyes give me pain whenever I see. Nature is marvelous, it’s colorful, and it’s vivid and charming. But what about the rest: the ugliness, the evil, the meanness, the lie, or the perversity? Why are all these things dark shade tinted? Why are they so cold and scary and disgusting? Are my eyes to blame? Do they imagine things? Are they absent-minded or dizzy or confused?
      No, you cannot just come out and accuse my eyes. They are so innocent. And this is happening only because my soul and brain conquered them, and now they are lead directly towards the unwanted side or … is it deliberately?
      Look into my eyes and you’ll know me. They are bright some days; they show the exciting need of living. But there are moments when they are still, looking to a wall, recalling things that cant’ be brought back or beings whom you can’t possibly see any longer. They keep the living image of the ones you lost and left our world. I would be mad if hadn’t had at least this: the image. When my heavy eyelids cover the blue, images keep running out and clear in front of my eyes. Nothing can stop them now. Not even the night or the sleep or the monsters of darkness. I always see during my sleep. Or I imagine so.
      Listen to me; take my advice: love your eyes! At least as much as I love mine. And you’ll discover that you really exist. Turn them inside yourself and you’ll feel the effect!
     

© Copyright Ioana Bostan
Sursa :   Imagikon
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