They say that eyes are windows to the soul But I am lost before that In the radial tessellations of muscles The complex crystalline structure of the iris Long before I can dive into the inky blackness Of the pupil I am caught by the starbursts of color Rippling lines of blues and greens and browns and golds No two alike Like fingerprints or snowflakes Strange that such artwork Has grown for such a mundane function How muscle, like a bicep or a heart, Has become such a jewel set in our face How it is.such a small part of us A miniature in a machine of a body Of levers and pulleys and hinges How wondrous we are These complex creatures of carbon and luck and time Perhaps it is true that eyes show the soul For observing them I find my own