The Eye

The eye. I stared into the eye. So deep, so fierce. The eye of a man.

Dark, absorbed. He made no move. Only stared back at me. His eyes piercing my own. I struck back, focusing on the right orb.

What was in there? I could not grasp its intensity. I could not coerce it into a box, a form. Obscure? No. There was no hiding. The mystery was expressed  in the unknown. Could it be known? That eye? That soul? I searched. Searched for light, for clarity.

I concentrated, fostered my hunt. Nothing. Only an apparent store of data. He had something. Many things. But I knew not what.

It was like a deep pool of water. To know what was at the bottom, one had to dive in. To draw out the truth, I must feel my way. No glance, no discernment of the eyes could tell me what lay in that mind, what that soul was. Only jump. Into the deep.

Now the head turned, the light of incandescents shone upon the pool. The eye reflected well the light, telling me that this eye did not love the dark, but the bright. The soul was not black, only immersed, withdrawn, and beneath the water. To know, one must want to know. To know, one must jump to know. And swim deeper and deeper still.

It was not a void. It was a substance. A profound amalgamate of matter. Thoughts, emotions, beliefs. Assertions, questions, and distresses. I could see the past, the present, and his future to behold in there. I saw it, I sensed it. But I did not know what it was. I must jump.

Ah, though not now. Over time. That was the only way. The only way to see this man, to know him, to know the truth behind that mysterious eye.

I ruminate. I have discovered, and am content. For now. I turn, and walk away. From that eye, from that man.

From that mirror.


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