In the Eyes of the Beholder
Half closed orbs of inspiration. Some blind to the light and others sheilded by thin cups of silicone tinted to hide ones true color. Glasses creeping to the ends of noses and relentless fingers pushing them back to their starting position at the peak of the mountain. Snowy white backgrounds and pools of green, hazel, brown, and blue band around infinite black pupils. The deep lifeless pits search for any trace of light that is so scarce in the darkness, but ironically block it out in it's obundance. They all show a personal view of their surroundings. Each one transmitting information to nurons in the brains of young writers looking for the inspiration hiding with Waldo, Sasquatch and Bush's WMD's. Electrodes flicking off and on as they try to grip the true beauty of a room full of nothing. Some see the room as things we dare not say, others see it as a get away for peace and tranquility. Some slanted and some closed, resting their thoughts. Some never leave the page, ignoring the perriferal images of other orbs looking for a topic to write about. Some can see through the darkness, so accustomed to the night that even the thought of light burns them. Others can't see without bright lights shining down from the heavens to guide their every step. Confident ones brighten rooms and peoples day, while sad one's stay glued to the floor. Some see through our happy-go-lucky facades that we put up to protect ourselves from the judging orbs of others. Others stumble in the rain to hide the tears that they cry, to lie to the world, to mask their weak side. Some are looking for the right questions to ask, others are searching for answers. There are ones that stare blanky, using all their strength to bring their heavy lids to a hault. There are some that can strike fear into the hearts of those who dare to look at them directly. Some are in a rush, blinking and missing the most important moments of their life. Rare one's see themselves in...