Looking at the Sun



They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul and when I looked into her eyes I saw the stars.

When I first saw her from afar, her eyes captivated me. I swear I could see galaxies reflected there, and I ached to look closer, deeper into those cerulean orbs.

I approached for a closer look, perhaps a word; but her minders kept me at bay before turning me out. It was too late though; I had glimpsed the Milky Way and knew I had to get closer – I had to get past her guardians.

I obsessed, I schemed, I plotted until months later when I found myself across a handbarrow from my Beloved in a stall at the market. I stared into her eyes and saw the great constellations. I think she saw something in me that day as well, because our next meeting was easier.

Somehow she had arranged a brief time alone, without her crew, without her protectors. We stared into each other’s eyes. In the night sky that I saw reflected there I watched the planets, their consistent and steady orbits true, and safe. We arranged a tryst in two night’s time and then we parted.

The last time I saw her we were lying together. Limbs entangled. Spent. Her eyes were mere inches from mine when she opened them and gazed at me unabashedly. I saw the Sun there, the closest of the stars. Struck blind I closed my eyes to deepen the darkness, and smiled. I have my memory. I have seen her soul.


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