Paradoxical sleep

We say that the eye rests
on an object it loves. It is
a pretty idea --
the long, languid gaze

is blissfully measured, like
late Sunday mornings slept in -- but
the eye is not still. In
reverence of

beautiful things, its
pupil will widen to
welcome them in --

It is generous, that way.

The eye is alert:
Quizzical, challenging,
discerning, assessing;
gathering and bending
dimension and hue

into color and light --
reversing the form, then
expertly righting it.
Relishing all sides; and

stowing them away.

And later, enchanted by
mesmeric sleep, the eye
quick-dances: skims across
the shape and light

of memory;
fast-forward filters through
a thousand flashing
slideshows;

Searching fo tthat
which it loves, which it knows.
Fluttering rapidly
like rapturous

birds.