Then, Nothing Else

Eyes, eyes, eyes,
I just see your eyes,
then desolation
then
nothing ever to disguise
nothing that could ever rise
either
to be recognized
or
to recognize.

nothing again ever
to loom
upon the ampleness
of
sheer size.

Your eyes are my stories
the history of my grievance and glories,
an advance,
the break of a glance,
a nostalgic feeling,
into the domain
of the amaranthine dance,

in an unceasing chasm
of the man's only chance
piercing
in the realm of where there are
no loss, or winnings,
neither ends
nor,
beginnings!