This is zombie town. They all look alike except one thing. You can tell the dead and living apart by their eyes. Be careful now, very careful, because the zombie is roused to anger and suspicion if you show too much heart. Master the look of the dead eye, reserve your living soul for others whom love.
The eye that has lost the ability to show real and deep love, to be a gateway to their own soul, is dead. I see them everyday. It's normal in these parts.
When I am looked upon with coldness, when there is no love in the eyes, all I see is deadness. I feel that the zombie apocalypse arrived without fanfare because everyone got turned off so slow that they didn't see or feel it coming. Then they looked out with their dead eyes and thought the living ones quite mad.
I was there when my Grandmother passed on. In her living moments her eyes were so very pretty, for she had a pretty soul. Once she was in the arms of the angels, her eyes were in some other place, looking upon other vistas. What was left, the cadaver, was no more her than the bed it rested on. Thus even as I closed her dead eyes, her soul-eyes were alive in the world beyond this, alive and seeing more than we can upon this plain.
Within this money-nexus world there are the dead eyes of the living, as if their soul is in such deep coma that they are the walking dead.
The dead eye is of this material world and thus belongs to our mother Earth, she who reclaims what is rightfully hers. The soul, however, has passed into the arms of angels, to they whom take the soul to its rightful home.
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