Tempest Eyes.

What dark eyes, that so effortlessy pierce the tepid hearts of men.
A sharp gaze unsheathed by tensile batted lashes.
Such deep pools, stark and unrippled.
Do not shed salted streams for superficial wounds.

Such mysterious allure not offered to just any.
Though many boastful and eager men have made faile attempts.
Some return to shore as most had drowned
They knew not of such peril, they could not fathom those depths.

A tempests shadow looms.  A storm of ages.
And hers is the eye.
The heart, unclouded, serene and solitary.
Though fierce defenses are a force their own.

The waters, deep and encompassing.
The winds atop, undefiable and ever shifting.
Are they a song of sirens?
Howling remorseless hymns
To drag ferried men to their deepest descent.

Fool hardy endeavors made
In search of self-satiated needs for the bountiful.
Is it pity, that the sirens now sing?
Is she remorseful, for those who could not see her through such chaos.

Were those salted streams unavail, for due course
Of the waterfalls she now weeps?
How could one see through such dark eyes
And not be captivated by their mystery?
A mystery she so willfully withholds.

Desires and promises made, fulfilled and then broken.
So cruel can be the hearts of men.
Alas, cruel men had given rise to such defenses.
New suitors, unfit, to endure the wrath atop the waves.
Those with show of strength cannot best the currents
And as all before, are dragged once more to the crushing depths.

It is not a race or test of strength.
It is the flow and motion through rushing waters.
To simply remain surfaced.
And soon her gaze fixed upon you.
The clouds part, her defenses withdrawn.
The sirens nolonger call, and bestill the waterfall.