You lie there .- eyes blank.
Does that mean your soul is too?
Are there images cradled
behind those pale translucent lids?

Perhaps creativity still flares -
comets of effervescence with no escape,
blazing unheeded under lashes that quiver
imperceptibly upon your cheek.

One day a window will open on your world.
But which world.

Will it be our faces that you see,
or will you view
the exuberance of eternity?