Friday, August 22

In a moment of quiet and foreign empathy,
they see,
not the brightness of youth teeming behind eyes,
but the eternal ages I have passed and failed and overcome.
Windows that have spanned continents,
seen dawn, rain, brash sunsets and bleak nights.
 For every moment of disillusionment, each lost soul I have encountered,
my vision is hopeful,
with pupils wide,
 wondering skywards until the next.
 I can recall every sentient day, face,
each place I've crossed,
my eyes reopen,
a shade lighter, nimbler, braver.
 I have become,
reborn and intrepid, another creature.