To That Man

I knew a man once
who fell in love with the world
with all that he knew and had and did.
When he told me about this love, I saw the sparkle in his eyes
and the dimples around his mouth;
it was the truest thing he could have said to me
then and there.
Where this love lead him,
I want to ask,
– wishing I’d see him again one day –
and whether those places were golden
or if love also opened his eyes for thieves who leave behind
but war and poverty
and if love makes it bearable
to look and still continue on
while all those faces look so much like him
and like me
and are stuck eternally
in a dirty, splintered mirror
that never lets the light shine through.
But then again –
the man never told me what to see,
only where to look.
So I guess it’s on me,
and I guess it all starts with the eyes…