Look Into My Skies

I stare into these faces as if they were the night sky. Our eyes are like stars. And I cannot look away.  I know they hold answers. Who are we? Who am I? We seem like different people. But the more I look the more we meld. Speak a word aloud enough times and it loses its meaning. It becomes unintelligible. Stare at enough faces and the edges blur. You begin to see yourself. These costumes. These bodies. What if the same being was inside them all? I walk the streets believing it to be true and it fills me with giddiness and laughter. I am everywhere. In him, in her, in him, in her. I am so clever, how I hide in other skins, in children and the elderly. I’m Mexican and Chinese. I’m destitute and obese. Every portrait is a selfie. Race and genders are little white lies. The shapes of eyes and noses. Height and weight and sex. Spirit, like water, conforms to the shape of its container. What a marvelous array of boxes we are. I say we but I mean I.

I come in 7 billion shapes and sizes. And I imagine that if I could see them all, if I could look into the eyes of everyone living, then it would trigger a massive consolidation. We would all merge back into the one. I’m drawn to the sky of faces like I’m drawn to the Milky Way. Source, origin, mystery, revelation. Every person is a universe, every star is an eye. What is this feeling? The hairs are standing up on the back of my neck now. The world is blurring. There’s a flutter in the center of my chest. We are inverting. I see the Mona Lisa in your eyes. When we are together, just you and I, there is no time.

o O o


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