The left eye looks back at a past
Of regret and joy, wonder and guilt
War, calm, seasons, death and birth.
The right strains to see into the future
Will tomorrow unfold petals of a bomb
Or give into a blossom’s destruction?
I’ve sat a long time looking each way
Trying to make peace in the present
And still I don’t know what to do with
The scorn and wisdom of the third eye