My Two Eyes

I see the world and life. My eyes of age and wisdom mount my face and watch the world with no surprise. They stare, almost coolly, toward the unknowing souls, unconscious of their growing insight. They glare, glower, pierce, glaze, burn, throw icy daggers, and bare into the souls of all those who come upon them. But just perhaps they stare down at my other pair of eyes. Soft, innocent, and watching the world in utter amazement, my childhood eyes watch the world too. My childhood eyes are different though; they don't watch for the old and gray, but brighten at the new. My child eyes don't give off airs but watch with a revealing confidence, facing the world with very simple fear. Perhaps my wise eyes, tainted with time, forgot how to shine gloriously in the light. Perhaps my eyes shall never agree about the world around me. Both admirant of the other, they know not which to see, but continue, steadfast in their natural love of the beauty around me. Life should be prepared-under my watchful, brilliant stares.fjakl;