Commoner, still, than tangible skin

is all that, of sight, to love here gave,

since hearts that bleed, like mine within,

will never, without, find home or cave.

 

But, here, I break from typical

Rhyme,

And, now I’ll talk out of Form and

Time:

 

Have you ever known a curse of the Eye?

When you see too much, it’s like a

 

Boulder.

 

Have you ever had that hang?

Have you had it suspend from the

 

Neck?

 

And,

when it hangs there, stupid,

 

did you ever notice, that, the

more you See,

the more you’re unseen, to all that

is

Seen?

 

See,

 

We’re all here, for a time.

 

The limbs move, then they die.

It could be five, maybe ten, fifty,

ninety years, or one,

but no matter what counts, no

soul can ever confide

 

in any of the things of this

World.

Because they all cut, and slash,

and kill, and gain, and hate,

and surround, and isolate,

 

Confound.

 

Even when it all seems to be

working out, for souls like us,

it’s but a moment, and only that,

 

in

 

Dreams.

 

Those dreams where hands raise

for once, not swords: Metaphoric,

or Real, but instead Flowers.

 

to

Touch

a

Face,

 

while

Empathy

Eyes

 

Enter.

 

and

 

Pierce.

 

Again, just a dream,

as ever shall remain.

 

Commoner, still, than tangible skin

is all that of dreams, meets waking Wights:

those Eagles of Man, whose fights within

face the Dark, and alone know Sight.

 

See,

 

Knowing that Sight requires a

Fire.

 

It requires such courage

and a will to be pillaged.

 

It requires a stoic

such cordial village,

 

See,

 

A Village.

 

Yes, Village!

 

Virtue never, alone,

achieves what human nature

is meant for, all known:

 

Known!

 

Every soul,

Seen.

 

This is the Eye.

 

Yet more than that, is all it implies,

since seeing is no common stand,

but, rather, the Eagles’ wings so fly

as to, so See, all that the Land

 

cannot conceive on shifting sands,

but anyway, tries, and so goes on

all that, under the sun, dies by the hands

that bleed our core of a treasured Song.

 

But lest we forget for what the Eye

was created, moist, that seeing would

change our souls to soon take flight

and cherish for good what Insight could:

 

Travel within, so that comes out

all blessed such things as, dear, our souls

were made to do, to greatly amount

to all the best that avoids the Hole

 

where otherwise fall all blinded folks,

but this is only because we forget

all tender jewels the heart unfolds

when fervent Eyes, with tears, repent

 

for nothing wrong can’t be reversed

when the Eye turns in and exposes, true,

everything Bright, or dark and perverse,

to take and remake into resplendent hues.

 

This is the Eye,

and never forget,

 

that, in revealing our pride,

only Beauty begets!

 

 

_________________

 

R.V. Smith: “The Eye”, 01-23-26

 

© 2026 by Ryan Vincent Smith