The eyes are the windows to the soul. I guess yours are streaked with the flames of auroras, the stolen wings of jewel beetles, and lost treasures of the sea - an ensemble of colours entangled in sunlight. A beauty, yes but a distortion meant to obscure the secrets behind. I see your eyes, but not the soul behind them - only a fragmented version of light and paint. And I can't love the truth I fail to see.