Deep, dark, chocolatey brown,

My eyes see many things.

They glance around the room that I find myself in,

Transferring a stream of information for my brain to make sense of.

They scan the pages of an interesting book,

Transporting me to a whole new universe where anything is possible.

They read over my work as my hands type at the computer,

Delivering more material for my mind to critique.

They watch closely as the band director conducts,

Scanning the notes and symbols on the sheet music

While my mind deciphers what it’s telling me to play.

My hands serve as a vessel for the music to escape the paper through my instrument,

Allowing it to flow freely through the air like a stream of clear water.

They see my fellow marchers-

A vast sea of black, feathery plumes and red and black uniforms-

As the stripes of our pants draw attention to the way our steps synchronize

And transform us from individuals to one fluid body.

My eyes see my past-

The good times and the bad.

They see character-defining moments,

Times that the decisions that I’ve made have shaped me into the person that I am today.

They remind me of painful memories of being consumed by anxiety,

But also look, with hope, towards my dreams of what life may have in store

And see that because of- not in spite of- the negativity of my past,

I am entirely capable of persevering

Through whatever hard times my future may bring.