Eyes not yet open,
hidden in warm honey,
stare into comforting darkness,
searching for safety.

Will you look upon me,
or shall my face be your
eternal, distant,
advocate?

Eyes not yet open,
hidden in a flourishing orchard,
refuse to see the
dangers that await them.

Shall I look upon you,
or will your face be my
lone, unknowable, lantern
in life’s teeming tide?