Through My Eyes


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Look at the world through my eyes.  See the soul that is mine.  Travel the roads I have trod.  Experience time spent in my life.  View the memories I have stored.  Walk the long mile in my shoes.

See the agony and pain that has changed me in ways that I am not able to explain.  I hide from the world the wounds inside that never fully heal.  Avoiding the hurt that is there by trying always to forget.

Look through my eyes with the vision I have of all that is around me.  I do not ask you for anything but your understanding.  Perhaps a little compassion after you see my life, my world, my inner soul.

Forgiveness too I would accept as my life is not perfect and might not stand a critical inspection.  Tolerance of my faults the little ones and those that are not so small.  Perhaps have patience for the times when I am stubborn and unbending in my beliefs.

Life has not been as I had envisioned it; many roads have not lead where I wanted to go.  Dreams have faded like the mists of the early morning that have caused them to end.

I  have wondered about perfection and if it truly exists.  My mind has pondered all the questions of the universe and has come to its own conclusions and sometimes these are thought to be very radical and non-conforming.

I have traveled my mind in the pursuit of  Utopia and believe it is truly the lost horizon.  To find it you have to give up all the unnecessary possessions of life, search for what is essential to you.  Then travel the road totally alone and free of worldly burdens.

Solitary in existence I wake to a day that does not unfold to the sound of another voice other than my own.  Sometimes I have  a conversation with myself just so my voice does not lose the art of speech.

I have stopped looking at the world trying to compare my body, wardrobe or hair to anyone else.  I have accepted who I am and know that no critic can be as vicious as I have been to myself.

I am tired of keeping wounds open offering my bloody soul as a sacrifice to an uncaring universe.  Look through my eyes now and you will see all my imperfections and know that I have accepted all of them as me.

My eyes will shed tears until the day I die; my dreams will always have high aspirations that I will not be able to attain.  I will love the most humble of mankind and yet will be rejected over and over.

My soul is an enigma and I have shared the mystery of it with all who take the time to learn who I am, what I feel and what I  believe.  I cannot alter what you see through my eyes nor do I want you to try.


                       Cheryl C. Helynck


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