At the time the mirror in his bedroom was his only true friend. There was a movie screen. He looked into his eyes because he dared not look anywhere else. Belly, chest, arms, ears, all such bitter disappointments. Useless in the rough world of boys. In this way he became attuned to eyes and learned how to read them. This was the key to survival. There’s a feint flicker that always precedes violence. You have to learn how to live like a dog. Jack London taught him this. A dog can discern the two hundred muscular subtlties of the human face. Life and death in the wild is measured by the width of an eyebrow.
His eyes were his favorite part of himself. They saw everything around him, and so much more. They were hawk-tuned to movement and color in the world of texture and light, but in reverse they were even better tools. To the sighted man there is nothing more beneficial or dangerous. The imagination, where the fire of Prometheus was born. The boy was told to go there as often as he could. And from that darkness he spun spider-like wonders that hung from the crossbeams of his nascent self, marvelous and terrible and glistening and warped.
His body grew and his texture changed but he did not become what the world might call a man. Size only matters when you’re small. He left the bedroom and he left the mirror. He never left the eyes. But he traded them. He began to seek the eyes of others for the stories they might tell and he would sometimes wander the streets of New York City in search of the ones that glowed. He began to notice that some eyes spoke more profoundly than others. They emit a different kind of light. He was taught to look a person in the eye when you’re talking to them but this rule wasn’t to be followed in New York. The streets had a different rule: look away. Again, he took a lesson from the dogs. Don’t make eye contact and you won’t have any problems. But the eyes of the mad and the lost are like roadkill to the wanderer out on highway and he could not look away.
When I look into your eyes I cannot help but see myself. When I look into your eyes I love you. When I look into your eyes the world of form blurs and fades and we are together out of time, they way we were before the Fall. Your eyes fill me, and in a steady glance we are joined. In your eyes I see the girl and I see the boy. I see the child and all the children, innocent still, sinless and free. In your eyes is the answer to my fear and doubt. In your eyes is all there ever was or ever will be. In your eyes I touch eternity and we walk again with God. The mirror is you, friend.
o O o