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The Visions of the World
Blue eyes, a shimmering lake, gaze upon a vast expanse.
They see deprived, starving children,
Rib bones protrude like a massive fork was scraped over their delicate skin.
They see dirt roads, dirt houses, dirt clothes,
And desperately, oh so desperately, want to help.
These blue eyes radiate angst, sorrow, and a desperate helplessness,
With a wrinkled brow, a puckered mouth, and a forlorn face.
Brown, world-weary eyes take in the dark alleys,
And desolate in festered crevices, better left for the blind to prod.
A woman is viciously raped, then stabbed in places no one should feel pain.
A carpenter, strolling home, is shot twice in the head.
And don’t forget the girl kidnapped, found hanging by a rope in some man’s apartment.
These brown, murky eyes of mud see it all,
And with matter-of-fact regularity, take it in through an unfeeling, unrevealing mask.
Green eyes, dancing around like nimble leprechauns, watch rainbows.
Births, birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations are seen through an iridescent window.
They take in the simple joys of the world.
Children skipping to the park, wives hanging out laundry, and teens,
Lying on a hot bench while the summer wind caresses with a cool hand.
These green eyes waltz, skip, twirl, and careen around,
Exuding a glow of contentment that rivals the stars at night.
The color wheel shifts, and the world is one.
All its problems and joys out there, for any one person to see,
But we choose to encompass that which befits the state of our own pedestal.
Optimists, realists, pessimists, idealists
Gaze upon their world, some enraptured, some horrified, and some unimpressed.
Their eyes reflect their beliefs, and are as different as the flakes of white in winter.
Each contain different images, which when combined, make up the visions of the world.