by C. Ikpoh
His eyelids lifted. Yet, unlike every other day he had ever lived, light shone through. It permeated his pupils as they achingly contracted from their dilated circumference. He blinked rapidly, flashing the slow creeping light to a pulse of morse code. For the first time in life, he had vision.
His corneas burned from a rush of sensation never before experienced. His pupils grew incredibly tight as if they fought to resist change. He told himself to not retreat back to the darkness he always lived in, to embrace the glow of the world in front of him. And that he did, forcing his eyes to soak up all the sights which fought to be seen.
Initially, he merely saw blurred, blotchy figures materialize. Eventually though, things gradually became more defined. However, the more detail he beheld, the more he realized his heart's new desire was contrary to what was once his deepest wish. Having his eyes opened, being able to finally see things as they were, was saddening. When his vision settled, the magic he prayed existed never appeared. The day he waited forever to come was sorely disappointing. Things were not as beautiful as he dreamed. Vision was not liberating. It was not a miracle. It defined nothing special. Seeing reality only displayed outlines of a broken heart. Finally seeing his life, his love, and his world for what it was, he found himself lost.
Slowly, he realized ignorance may have been bliss. He realized the only way he would see his life, his love and his world as magical as they always were, was with his eyes closed. Therefore, blackness draped down over the perfecting eyes. Familiarity soon followed. It was then he truly received a revelation: he always could see. His heart never allowed him to be blind. It painted the most vivid, detailed depictions of reality, learning him the most valuable of lessons. What is seen, what is heard, what is told, all are mere images. What is felt is what should be known. What is felt is what is real.