Ses Yeux...

He seldom smiles, but I know he enjoys every minute of life as it slips past his observant eyes at a steady pace. He rarely laughs, only that occasional upward turn of his lips as he merely indicates the slightest bit of his amusement. But he tries to remain serious, always. He tries his best not to show that he is as much affected by the tides of emotions as we are.

He tries too hard, too hard indeed. When nobody ever gave him the responsibility to watch over others with his silent gaze, yet he still takes it up as his duty. He thinks too much, too much for his own good. And they say one who thinks well rarely utters his thoughts. Yet it shows, on his serious, calm demeanour; the burden, the weight of a thousand cares and duties just waiting to be fulfilled in his raging sea of thoughts.

He never was the most popular guy around, there were others far more handsome than he. But he has his far share of admirers, and a great many elders respect his talents. They set him difficult tasks, they watch him pass his tests, they give him harsher duties. And each time I know he does his best, although he would never be fully recognised for the genius he truly is. But still there are whispers, the whispered words behind closed doors, that it is such a pity, his talent will never be truly recognised.

Again, he smiles. Yet a frown rests heavily over his brows, and the grip of haunting dreams shows its scars across his forehead. I long to reach out and touch the tips of my fingers to his pale skin, to show how much I worry for his well being as well, but I cannot. He wouldn't let me.

He sees things that others cannot, and not just those things that are invisible. He sees the things that are clearly there, yet others fail to notice their existence. Each move we make, each time we laugh, even the times when our eyes light up in joy, his eyes capture the slight beauty of that small, simple action, and holds it dear forever.

He's leaving now, and he doesn't look back. I long to call out to him, to beg him to stay, but the mere sight of his back in the distance, and his hair swaying in the wind, makes me want to cry. For he is already long gone. He has already chosen to walk his way, and those who are important to him are merely purposes to keep him alive, not memories to keep him with us. He will live for those whom he loves, but loving them was never his option. His clear eyes hide the sorrow of loneliness, but I can feel their pain.

I am not strong enough, nor am I tough. I cannot restrain him, nor can I change his ways. All I can do for him is pray and pray, and maybe just hope that he will be free from his worries and his burdens, never again to be shackled by the weight of his responsibility. He deserves to spread his wings, he deserves to fly in the clear blue sky he has watched me savour in delight. He deserves to love, and deserves to live the way he wants to.

His pure, clear eyes deserve to experience more of the joys he was never entitled to have. And he deserves to know the feeling of loving and be loved, not just as a sense of duty that he must protect.

And so, I desperately want, I fervently pray, that this caged bird can chart its own destiny, that this caged bird can fly away freely... Without me.

But I will miss his honest gaze, and his pure, clear eyes that seem mesmerised by the world, and yet has mesmerised me.