your true eyes

rest your eyes awhile
upon the blue
of a chalky sky,
or the softness
of tendrils
clinging only
to move life,
one moment at a time,

rest your eyes
on the unchanging
patterns of stone
upon a well-laid path,
or upon the grace
of flowing water
as she always
finds her way,

rest your eyes awhile,
cleanse them
of the colours
and staccato forms
they capture
to make their own,
often,
black and white,

rest them awhile
every now and then,
so in those
magical interludes,
between doing
and being,
you will find
your true eyes.