Prophecy in Her Eyes

I search for prophecy in her eyes,

some truth about us to be revealed,

a signal that this is the one true thing

in the world that matters, yet all I see

is sickness, vapid lunacy and conflict.

Frosty eyes glittering in a snowy morning,

a paled blue, icy and solid, with no

truth to share other than how wrong I

was to put such optimistic faith in such

unrequited scripture.

I search for prophecy in her eyes, I want

her truth, her loving, her incorruptible passion

laid out open for me to clearly see, those

eyes, watery with longing for the same truth

that I seek.

Prophetic eyes telling me the story of

our loving life, safe in each other’s belief

of each other, trusting, sharing, growing,

into magnificence, without malice or

mistrust.

It’s nightmares I see, prophecies of doom,

shattered hearts and broken dreams, leaving

both in tatters, like storm swept sails on a

ghost ship careening through tormented seas

headed for the rocky shore consigned to the deep.

The prophecy, still unfulfilled, I sit each night,

contemplating the strange disparities between

myself and the loves lost, smothered or vanished,

misspent or otherwise squandered in this constant

and baffling search for the truth in her. Of Her.

Is there any prophecy at all I wonder? Is there any

truth to be had? Is there any destiny visible in the eyes

of a lover, a shared heart, or is it all romanticized nonsense

due to an overactive imagination and Hollywood brainwashing?

Is there a chance that all my beliefs are merely childish fascinations?

Yet I still hope for her eyes, staring into mine,

contemplating the contentment of a mutually shared truth,

and the completion of the ancient rites

of prophecy.  Requited and whole,

reflected in each other’s hopeful souls.