The Right Kind Of Eyes

I came across a woman tonight and there were many other women around,

Many other nameless faces I could have struck up a conversation with,

But I didn't talk to them....

I didn't want to write about them.

I had come across a woman of unique beauty there was not going to be another one of this woman.

I looked at her in absolute wonder

Who was this person?

Just beneath the skin was a universe of thoughts feelings loves and memories.

Some people have tattoos and they look counter culture...rebellious

This woman without a name had tattoos But

 they stood out more as art that a tattoo.

They were supposed to be there,

Like the paint on a canvas.

It belonged there.

Every brush stroke every drop of ink was exactly where it was meant to be. This woman was not an empty canvas.  

As to if the painting was done or not in this moment was of no consequence In this moment it was complete.

I saw a little more of her.

Because of that tiny sliver of who she is was on her skin

For those to see if they have the right kind of eyes,

In this moment at least for this one moment I did. I

I studied her further.

She said she had an open mind and her eyes told the same story.

There is a thirst in them to see more

A willingness to open them as wide as she has to.

Tonight I am letting my imagination run wild at to what she might be like. Like an astronomer discovering a beautiful galaxy when seconds before all they could see was  the darkness.

I don't even know her name,

 But I know your sense if wonder,

I have it too.

I look at you and see an entire glaxy just beyond your eyes.

Just beyond those eyes,

 in your mind or your soul or being,

 It has many names but that is where your galaxy is spinning,

 Rotating,

Growing.

Stars burning hot within you giving you the fuel to go on

Sometimes those stars burn too bright for too long and it explodes,

But when a star dies it creates life,

So everything can continue,

One day I may know your name.

I may not be a stranger at all,

I may know your life story.

The mystery may not be there one day,

But your stars will still burn,

And I'll still have the right kind of eyes to see them.