Their eyes were dull, content with life;
I could not see myself mirrored there.
From some I turn, not having spirit to engage that stare.
They seek not mine.
Others engage my look with mirrored look,
And seek me out to engage yet more.
Some have still lively souls,
Still seeking life, still seeking mine.
It speaks well of future discourse,
Face to face and eye to eye.
What of that look that changes not through all the years.
complacent, happy with themselves?
They see not that look upon their face,
Frozen in time, glory fading slowly.
No man's eye, the window to the soul inside,
can behold itself and so no tales can tell
to the soul within.
Happy man who lives to see another day,
with hope to seek more glory than before.
Seeking out a face which marks the look on his.
Questing, striving, knocking, finding,
and so a future builds, one brick upon another.
A face with which to face the face of God,
only to find His face restored in man.
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