I saw multitudes in your eyes that day:

 

All the strange and secret moods of the world,

descending from the great purple glass of the sky

into realms of the densest fire, the bluest ice,

and the fiercest war between the two.

 

From forest-levity to glacial territory,

from looming magma walls to crumbling ether.

Past dust and stone and leaf and loam,

deep under where thick black oil gurgles

and space itself is molded into desperate hands,

flashing open in agony for just an instant.

 

This is where the rawest pain of life and love fumes.

It swirls and plots and bubbles and gasps and shudders with ancient fury.

It congeals, glassy, into the loving brown of warmth and animal fur and solid wood,

polished and wet, feathered with minuscule life.

 

I saw all this and more in the countless depths of your eyes.