A Functioning Disfunctionality in the Sweetest Eyes

Startled and star-swept amongst the vast gulf of eternity, threads float, weave, and dissolve towards a cyclical web of the all encompassing status-quo; mumbling incontinent phrases that were developed in the fiery heart of dissolution but used in a forward, staccato march towards finality. Beauty and bones capsize all strength, purloin all guile, stripping the fabric of universality from among the decaying loam.

Visible to all yet to none there is a formulated, almost calculated appearance of glacier-al depths and rocking seas combining together in a swirl of Jökulsárlón meets Mediterranean clash of color. Small pools that open doors larger than life, well for most. When you can gaze upon the deepest azure flecked with a prospectors dream of gold, knees that gasp in astonishment of such a perfect combination. It’s reality that sways to magic and scientific muddling, a magnetic force that cannot but help pull your gaze to an ocular's terrace of beauty.

To hope in tragedy and wonder while lying prone amongst the dark forest, whose green resembles something found in the deepest of color wheels, supported by a protective loam, lightened by swaying leaves and wandering tendrils of vines whose clutch upon the heart is most inclined to the iron grasp of gravity. Where a whole day could be wasted in such a view, viewing with eyes opened or closed does not make a difference for the level of momentousness that is burned searing-ly into your mind with the sweetest touch of heat can not be swept from memory so easily. A green whose fortuitous existence is most assuredly a farce, for a more perfect design could not be found in the most sweeping city skyline or enthralling cathedral, a design that transcends Michelangelo virtuosity or Picasso adroitness. Where the flutter of heart has put to shame the patter of a hummingbird.

Where the deepest brown swallows like that of a well, delving deeper than the deepest mine. The earthiness crafts softer than the fresh turned soil of the most abundant of gardens. Endless brown, falling six feet under the rising sweetness that ensues when such a look is directed with open plainness to the very chord of your existence. Seemingly alight with the shades of life, love, and innocence. A brown that cultivates more enriched endorphins than any taste of substance. An addiction that sweeps into dreams and dreams of a forever in an endless ocean of continuation. The continuum of quintessential exquisiteness is locked behind the fragile fortress of the sclera. A bewilderment that juxtaposes astonishment in such a manner that even the most love induced coma would awaken.
Where you say, “You have the sweetest eyes