Your eyes don’t see the rising sun,
casting itself differently across the skies each time
neither do you feel its varying touch.
Your eyes can’t see the drifting clouds,
never two the same
but your eyes don’t see the difference
the world changes around you
the barren trees coming back to life
blades of grass poking through the melting snow
the gentle wind blows for a few moments,
gone after that,
this moment never to be the same again.
You are blind to the preciousness of the now,
for instead, your sight dwells on others
seeing their happiness saddens you
around you is your own life
waiting for you to see it
but you only have eyes for someone else’s life.