The Eyes

In the unending rummage for bliss,
The eyes seem to be one tired lass.
Already covered decades and miles,
Yet the search goes on as time flies.

A million dreams twinkling in them,
Those eyes hope even in mayhem.
And even in the jiffies of darkness,
Are alert by letting slip all sadness.

Let them discover what they yearn,
Be wise about whatever they learn.
After all, life is a fount of marvels,
Like the sundry forms of seashells.