Behind The EyesLook no further than your lens. You will see what I see. From behind my eyes, even before the the retinal reflections, I see the world, its people and yes, your smile. Your gloom sits across from me, it asks for its smile to arise. A crowd of people, all their voices, colors, costumes, fragrances, and emotions I can see without noticing them.
He walks within, behind his eyes, seeing things that shatter the world seen by the pupils, dilated, the retina reflects, the optic nerve sends a message, but behind the eye, before the image reaches the brain, he sees. Solitary figures of anxiety, greed, want, envy, joy, suspicion; they all wander past the passerby. He smiles or nods or brushes by awaiting contact with one who will open the very eyes behind the blue ones with iris mechanisms.
He fears not, yet to on-lookers he seems either aloof or shy; strange or dangerous; beautiful or grotesque. He sees their judgments and observations, yet, he smiles and sees transition set it.
She wants a hug, he extends his hand. He sees her recoil from the hand, pleading for a hug. She says to him, "Here we hug, you must be different, what are you?"
"I am human." He replies, and gives her a hug, one of the genuine kind, wanting nothing and receiving friendship within the moment. Behind his eyes, he sees the entire fair ground of the party, no one looks at him, no the one behind his eyes. They move about, some dancing, some eager to wander away. It is today. It is for them. The vision behind the eye tells him that all is good, yet, friendliness has yet to reap him a friend.
Behind the eyes the vista has to melt, lest he see none around him. Behind the eyes where I refer to me as him, because I cannot but experience him. I know him to be me, but, he is not the one my eyes see in the mirror. He is me behind my eyes glancing inward and outward, knowing what cannot be expressed.
So, I smile and she received my hug. He too. And they all saw it, but not from behind their eyes, otherwise, they would have run.