by Cat Biker
There is a face
The face is real
But why?
Why so intangible?
You can't even seem to reach, or touch,
No matter how you strain.
The face is serene,
The direct, gray orbs, so compelling, yet so thoughtful.
Speaking so softly, so gently.
Yet. They light the fires of a man who never knew
A fire could be so hot,
Could even exist.
Where was this fire from nowhere from?
The face so narrow
Yet not so narrow.
The chin is stubborn,
The mouth is soft and plain.
But when the eyes go red, the mouth firm,
And the chin set.
And yet, the light to the struggling outsider
Is still there.
The face relaxes,
The eyes come from their misty vision and
Focus their glowing, radiant, Oh! So beautiful light on the outsider.
The wall is broken.
He can, and may, step now. into that light.
He stands, he fumbles,
And the eyes smile and invite him to enter.
A step, small, but a step,
And yet again he stops.
The light is all around him and yet it
Cannot dissipate the cloud, large, black,
And threatening, that is in back of that face.
He moves not, fearing the shadow of that cloud
That is always over him will fall on those
Eyes and destroy their light.
He flees!
As he flees, over his fast-moving shoulder, past
The chip, he fears that already those eyes.
So kind, so gentle, have seen the cloud.
That face is not beautiful like a classic or a
Modern, but as a soul, a being, a life.
It and others like it are remaining and
Retaining their beauty.
They turn and walk away.