In Her Eyes by Larry Neal Gowdy
She talks with her eyes,
her movements of body confirm what the eyes describe,
her eyes are honest,
depths of life reflected in what my heart feels.
Her eyes tell me of a kindness,
of a gentleness,
of a hurting,
of a yearning for love,
to be loved,
of an unfulfilled harmony.
She is aware,
of a mind that is awake,
thoughts weighing heavy on past experiences,
her eyes tell her story and where she is now present.
And she is present with me.
There is no need to speak,
her heart guides her eyes,
I am aware of what she feels,
and her feelings are for me.
Her eyes speak of inward thoughts,
of inward feelings,
of a drawing me near,
not of eyes that speak of forwardness,
but of eyes of a soul that wishes to surrender,
to be of harmony,
to be of me.
When I give motion,
of my left fist upon my chest,
the fist pulsing as if the heart,
with my right hand I hold the left,
and my right hand places the left within her hands,
I have given her my heart,
and her eyes tell me with tears that she accepts,
and desires for it to be so.
With clutched hands she places my heart to hers,
her eyes smiling,
of questions of acceptance,
her radiance glows,
and within the caress of a treasure,
she makes it be so.
I do not want a heaven,
nor a paradise,
nor a wealth of possessions,
nothing but to be here in the present,
within her eyes.
Within her presence,
within her eyes,
I am fulfilled,
forever exalted within perfection,
and I want nothing else,
One of the greatest beauties in the universe is a human who is in harmony with themselves.
In Her Eyes was originally written as two short paragraphs within an unpublished article's section titled Virtuous Woman. I had written the article while listening to music like Constance Demby's Invocation, and so the rhythmming of the prose somewhat synced with the music while I placed my own rhythms and tones within the choices of words. The event pointed to in the prose is partially factual; I added and altered a few words from other events so as to enable an improved clarification of intent.
To me it is a beautiful thing to communicate through creative reciprocal interaction. I can love and care for a clod of dirt or a leaf of a tree, but thinking creatures long for an interactive communication, of the observer being observed by the observed: of the observed loving and caring for the observer. As easy as it is to observe how well a person's words sync with music, so also are a person's emotions synced with their body, and the knowing of whether a reciprocative communication is sincere is determined by how well a person's own personal traits harmonize and sync.
Within the experience of reciprocative communication an individual's very presence is fully honest. The eyes describe one's thoughts and desires, the movements of the body confirm what the eyes describe, and every sight of the individual is an honest description of the person's true inward nature. The aromas describe the individual's health, gender, emotions, histories of thoughts and emotions, age, which types of foods they prefer, which foods may agree or disagree with their bodies, maturity of physical and mental development, of whom the individuals have spent time with, of the individual's habits, of desires, of needs, and of all the many other descriptions within the scents, each is fully honest and cannot be hidden. Within the taste of a woman's lips is the description of health, physical needs, stages of maturity, histories of choices in foods and others, her desires, her cyclic stages, and her true interests. Within the felt textures of her skin is felt the layers of warmths that describe interests, desires, health, ancestry, speed of aging, gender, and many more, all of which are honest and cannot be hidden. Within the felt radiance of her glow is felt her emotions, desires, interests, where her mind is focused, where and when the thoughts will ebb, and of the many other details within each individual's radiance there is an honesty, a presence that cannot be feigned. Within the sounds of breathing, of the gentleness of feet, of the gentleness of all movements, the sounds describe and lend confirmation of what is communicated within the sights, aromas, tastes, and feelings.
A very large quantity of information is always and fully exhibited by each individual, information that describes the person's true self, and if all five sensory interpretations agree upon their conclusions, then the observer's mind can be confident that the observed individual is what the observer believes. Similar to words being recognized to be from a different song if the words do not sync with the present music, if the eyes do not agree with the aromas, or the taste does not agree with what is felt, then the individual is dishonest, and the attempted deception is made known.
More is communicated in a kiss than what man could ever throughout all of eternity place into words. More is communicated within a simple holding of the hand than what man can place into words. Each person's presence is honest, there is no hiding one's true nature, and if the nature is beautiful, then so will it be made known.
And nothing is as quick to pollute the experience and be vulgar as to speak words. No word has a truthful definition, all words are inaccurate, all words are vulgar; all words are as lies.
To me honesty is beautiful; honesty is accurate, it is what is true, and honesty can only exist and become real within the firsthand experience of reciprocative interaction within the self and with others - without words. Anyone can say "I love you," but few people can be honest. The act of reciting information accurately with the intention to speak accurately may be named honesty, but the question is to ask whether the information was acquired accurately and with the intention for accuracy. To speak with the intention for accuracy, and yet to speak of a knowledge that was gained without the intention for accuracy, the person is then not honest. Words were learned without accuracy, knowledge was learned in schools without accuracy, and in all things learned without firsthand experience, none are honest. When the self is honest with itself, when the self's traits agree and are in sync with the others, then does honesty exist because the act is the intent for accuracy.
I do not care what a person knows, I do not care what a person may own, and I do not care what the person may have accomplished in life, I only care for quality traits that include honesty, and if the honesty of a quality living creature describes to me a sincere desire to be near me, then to me there is no greater beauty except that of my also desiring for the same of them: it becomes creatively reciprocal, of an exponential transductance that achieves the one true ultimate value in all of Creation: creativity.
Humans may be Nature's greatest enemy, but only humans are known to possess the ability to attain self-harmony by self-willed choice, and it is within this great rarity that I marvel at its profound beauty, a beauty that is true to itself.
And if this beauty of self-harmony is present within a woman of virtuous standards, so much greater becomes her beauty, and if she is of an ancestry and form that closely mirrors my own, again so much greater becomes her beauty, and if this remarkable creature were to have an interest to be in my presence, then the beauty becomes hidden behind my own experience of profound ecstasy, and I want all other things in the universe to disappear and to not exist, so that I can forever dwell within this one moment of perfection.