Reign of the Eyeball

I carry feelings that make hearts stop to the exits of the Soul in each teardrop.

Reign of the Eyeball

I reign as the eyeball. I’m bathed by tears.
Bright worlds I image for man’s mental gears
to churn the depths where creative fractions
give birth to ideas made whole by actions.

Glands in my eyelid above me squeeze
their salty flush that bathes me clean
of wind, of dust and dirt injections
each time I blink, each eye deflection.

Though hearty laughter, anger and grief
are emotions strong, they demand me release
those glands when swollen liquid filled
and erupt my tear gushing cascade spills
to carry those feelings that make hearts stop
to the exits of the Soul in each teardrop.

They empty the body taking laughter with pain,
love with anger and loss with gain
and the Spirit is lightened and finds its calm
at the crossroad of tears where the blood slows down;
where the heart beats quiet and the lungs breathe air,
where the Soul rests cleansed of its trembling cares

and the light through me brings a clarity of mind
where tomorrow sips Hope from the chalice of Time.
And I reign as the eyeball, the collector of light
and the ejector of tears in the day and the night.

Namyh