My eyes scan the room,
Noticing each detail.
Not of frames on the wall
or the texture on the ceiling,
But of people.
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,
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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