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eye look into bbl 283w - May 1, 2016s

author’s note:

I can’t find the word “re-awareness” in my dictionary…

But it should be included.  Because, in my experience, that’s the nature of awareness: gained, then lost.  But never completely lost.


Sometimes when I start to feel
uncertain about this creation
called human life
I’ll look into my eyes

hoping to return to a bright center
of spirit and purpose
and thus, reassure an animal
that frets over its fragility.

But initially
the clouds of my anxiety
will block this anxious attempt
to peer into the depths

and so I’ll only see a reflection
of the same unsettling thoughts
that brought me to the mirror.

I’ll see
how my warm twinkle blinks
on and off, on and off:
a distress signal of fear—
fear I usually try to ignore,
afraid I could not function
if constantly aware

and with this re-awareness
—this self-confession—
I’ll become even more
willing to persist—
to be courageously patient
until I pierce through
to some deeper truths

though I can’t help but dread the descent

not just because
I know I’ll see my worst
but also because
I know I’ll see my best:

that which is buried yet never at rest.

Maybe we created gods
of light and darkness
because we could not tolerate
the incredible in ourselves

but none of our conceptions
ever illuminated me as much
as the ageless one I can find
deep deep down in my eyes

below the darkness and light
below the worst and the best.

Maybe you’ll call me Narcissus
and maybe you’re right

but from such mirror gazing
I become aware again of a knowing
we too often ignore:

a human being is always much more
than the complexity we can clearly see
with but a single glance
at his cloudy anxious eyes.

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
dream steps: the blog


heart eye - February 12, 2014s

author’s note:

I wanted to revisit this poem on Valentine’s Day.  A good follow-up to the last poem, I think…

It’s not written to anyone in particular…

…but to everyone in general.


I wonder at you:

when I look into your eyes
I see there’s more there
than I can ever hope to see

so I can’t break away:

where there’s more
than can ever be seen
there is mystery—

there is beauty.

l want to witness your mystery
so I can remember
how beautifully strange
this life is—

realize again
the wonderful strangeness
of my own life:

my half-awake olive-drab eyes
become mysterious creations
when found in the black center
of your fathomless wells:

eyes that mirror my eyes—
eyes the same as mine
and yet, so different…

how strange.

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
Open All Night

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