The Searcher

Watching.

Observing. 

Searching.

My eyes scan the room,

Noticing each detail.

Not of frames on the wall

or the texture on the ceiling,

But of people.

Their smiles.

Their frowns.

The way they move their hands when they talk.

But most of all their eyes.

Joy, pain, and wisdom seems to be trapped

behind those so called windows to their souls.

And yet, sometimes their curtains are shut.

The joy seems gone,

The life depleated.

And there they stand,

Watching,

Observing,

and Searching-- 

Searching for answers. 

Searching for peace.

Longing for comfort.

I watch them carefully,

wishing I could help them see

That they're not the only one searching

And that answers do indeed exist.

That they themselves can open the curtains

and see the world with new eyes.

 

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