take those mystic eyes off of me … maybe not. there’s so much to look at, and so much to see. not even theia’s eyes hold more rapture. forgive me far sight, but sometimes i can see chinese porcelain cracks running across your eyes, and etched on your face as well. and i wish, with one touch, to fill them up. but they were never meant to be filled. so i stare – polydectes to medusa – at them up close. then i stand back … by god – i can’t believe my eyes.