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The Gray-Eyed
The mirrored face: like mine, but eyes of gray.

A lifetime's mirrors show my eyes are green.

I see this mirror working every day,

but this—! It's something I have never seen.

Her eyes are gray. I know at once it's She.

There's nothing else to know at all, and I

don't understand—what is She telling me?

A nudge, that's all: a subtle thought: supply

the context of before, and then I know:

the task she set me months ago, that I've

been thinking whether to accept. Although

I greatly want to serve Her, help revive

the old Hellenic ways, there's much to do—

and I don't know if I can see it through.

But then, an ant's-eye view is all that I

can see. I trust Her vision. I can try.