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In this moment,
My mind looks upon myself
Curious of the shell -
For it represents what I am not
What a shame
That we cannot appear
To be
What we believe
We are.

We are,
Like the age old cliché -
A book.
With a cover.
Representative of the detail inside -
Or a vacant mystery.

An intuitive witness
Will
Learn the person’s life.
Through expression lines
Contours that suggest emotionally afflictive trends
The eyes however
Are timeless.
These
Are that to which our soul is bound.

Eye contact is an essential element of communication
Otherwise,
We are
Just shells.
To look upon.
To judge.
©2006-2009 ~JosephExplosive
:iconjosephexplosive:

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I

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:iconemeraldrhino:
Beautiful rendition of the old (and true) saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Short, sweet, and to the point, :D especially after reading Pumiceutal 2x again... ;)

--
*NEW* new poetry: [link]
*NEW* old poetry:
[link]
:cling: :chainsaw:
*NEWNEWNEW* digital art,,, please comment!!
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:iconjosephexplosive:
Your comments are appreciated... Please come again.
:iconcygnusvismund:
I notice your poems are more constructed around morals but they are deeply hidden in meaning. Good. Again. Great flow.

--
Oh my Tetragrammaton!
:iconjosephexplosive:
Yeah. Those ones you've read are definitely my more blatant pieces. Check out Pumiceutical.
:iconcygnusvismund:
Okay.

--
Oh my Tetragrammaton!

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June 21, 2006
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