In the dark, all eyes look alike,
no matter which end of look you hold.
Color means nothing then,
just the subjective reflection
of a radiance that never really existed
in the mirrors of our unshared souls,
of wide-eyed hope.
Maybe darkness protects our vision
as would a prolonged blink,
a teary baptism, saving us
from bleary illumination.
After dawn, we attempt to gaze
into those brown or blue
looking glasses before us,
where we espy only reflections
of our own reveries, visions we
dreamed up last night in the dark,
where we all looked alike,
just like our eyes.