Eyes, they are our ornaments

Beauty’s hidden in the mind’s turbulence

They can neither focus nor store

Whether we’re in or out, they’re a wide open door

We cover them with blinking blindfolds

When we want to see what the inside holds

We struggle to hold down the eyes

They don’t keep us from having the prize

Whether open or shut, they aren’t in the way

When guided by thoughts, they may lead us astray

The search has been myopic

Fittingly our approach is also quixotic

There is great beauty behind the eyes

When the mind’s put to bed and we arise

We become that beautiful sight

Stretching as far as the furthermost light