Faces

In the past few days, I started to ponder the very real possibility that if there was a way to view each of our souls, something of what are faces portray might be seen.

  

In who we are,

And what we do,

There are no two alike,

Showing where we are from,

In linear blood,

And where we are going,

In all that we do,

Our eyes are bright or dim,

In reflecting passion of life,

Wrinkles that are placed,

Show history of a heart’s joy,

While in other places,

They can show anger’s scars,

From one’s own will choice,

Of how to deal with pain,

And yet there is such gain,

As when you look through eyes,

Which sift the very soul,

Eyes cresting quiet lips,

For what they have seen,

The heart already hears,

And the face becomes a portrait,

Of the soul trapped deep inside,

For as the face before you speaks,

Of a man who’s seen the world,

Or the woman by my side,

With my universe in her heart,

And then the view expands,

From the face of one,

To three,

To hundreds,

To millions,

With each an eternal soul,

Within each a wondrous story,

Part of the eternal story,

Within the song of life,

With different notes and words,

Each one is a page,

A tale of eternal life,

Captured in faces.