iris

You look up and see an unblinking fluorescent light. It doesn't see you. You remain frozen, unable to turn away from the strain being placed on your eyes. Your eyes are your one prize. They are good eyes. No, you do not have perfect vision, but the pigmentation of your iris is often the cause of praise. It's a hazel so rich it needs a new name. You and your deep eyes remain nameless, however, as you allow the fluorescent light to maintain power, to have the upper hand.

Then it falls apart. In an instant. In an instant the lights shut off and you miss it. You miss the control, the struggle, the insecurity. Then the question of who shut off the lights comes into your head. I guess the insecurity is still there. It never really goes away. But now there is no control, no way to know how to overpower or submit. You were decent at that game, even when you were the loser. How do you absorb a light that no longer exists?

This is where I'm at right now. I am in the middle of a room I do not know because I paid no attention to it when I entered. I let the light blind me, or at least transfix me, and then I let go. I let go of knowing what it was I wanted, what it was I needed, what it was I was. What I was. Past tense. It's in the past. So there's that. I can let go of that and go on to whatever is next, which at the moment is me stumbling around in the dark, arms outstretched, cautious. I do not know what's lurking. I do not know if there's even anything lurking. I know I have thoughts. I know thoughts have the power to control the light switch. I know this, but I do not admit it. Maybe one day. Maybe when I'm tired of my prize-winning eyes being hidden in an inky void.

What do I avoid? From what do I shield my eyes? And how do I begin to open, open, open?