tales for dreamers: the seeing eyes
Six watchful eyes on the wall. I wonder what they see and if they will tell all.
The eyes, they glow in the dark.
They watch, even if only in turns.
One keeps an eye (pun unintended) on your past to prevent it from slowing you down.
Another keeps watch on your future, ensuring it remains unknown and unpredictable enough to make life and its living interesting for you.
(No one watches your present, that responsibility is solely yours.)
The third monitors your friends, and the fourth, your enemies. Too many of one and too few of the other throws life out of balance.
The fifth eye keeps track of your luck, making sure you have enough when you need it the most, and that others get their fair share too.
The sixth eye watches from behind a closed lid. Every move, every breath, every thought and every hope, every heartbreak, every moment crushed under the weight of despair, every laughter that filled you with an indescribable lightness of being, the sixth eye records and remembers.
It flicks open only at the very end to help you remember an entire lifetime in a matter of moments. One last time, one final memory, before your past and future, your friends and enemies, your good luck and bad, all cease to exist.