in the inner canyon cast behind,
one set of eyes looking out,
how the otherwise invisible
becomes so emotionally evident
in a language base of presence,
otherwise offered as, just straightforwardly,
seeing what's so.
there is an emotive script,
somewhat concealed but yet present.
a story told in emotives expressed.
some seen as if looking down a deep well
with eye gazing depth,
while others with billboards flash-by presenting.
some with magicals, flying skyward,
others with horizon-wide walls withholding.
there are energetic secretions presenting,
always, a story is being told.
it is the reader that makes mention
into either prohibitives or provocatives.
the broadcast, itself revealing,
is ever in the subtly of advancing,
both in the stillness
and in the ever stated.
everything said is in braille-face spoken.
what eyes you have to feel,
is what sense you have to grasp.
the artist of oneness seeking, knows,
while the audience of observance does not.
all eyes are inkwells,
deep pools of withdrawnness as possible,
are for what mediums of emotional endeavor
that call.
so, do you see,
what I feel? . . .
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