When I look into his eyes, I see honesty.
I see love. I see laughter. I see hope.
I see something that I, myself, can only aspire to be,
Someone who lends a hand and puts away the ropes.
When I look at his smile, I see purity.
I see a faith that makes it easier to cope,
For this life is more beautiful and this life is more free
When I focus on him and not his horoscope.
When I look at his hands, I see determination.
I see the struggle in the climb. I see his mighty reality.
I see a set path and firm beliefs with no deviation,
Something resistant, something solid, something weighty.
I see something whole, not based on fragmentation,
But based on unity and liberation.
When I look at his skin, I see a history.
I see a tone that carries its own narration,
A people who live in daylight, in personal mystery,
And a voice that travels across the nations.
When I look into his heart, I see beauty.
I see folds of life in his body’s constellations.
I see the perfect balance between complexity and simplicity,
A passionate heart that beats without expectation.
But when I look into his soul, I see something refreshing.
I see no trace of lack, no trace of misery.
I see no trace of isolation, but much of inspiration–
And pieces of art enveloped in victory.