Iris

I stare deep into the pools that are our gates,

Our open doors to our minds and dreams and hopes and feelings,

Everything that is locked up inside is stored within these gates,

Either strong and thick or weak and flimsy,


With white trimmings as the decorative coating,

Then a color to represent us in whole,

Which changes intensity by our current state,

However the part comes last is the Iris,


The black nothingness that allows nothing to enter but light,

Every Iris is cold and dark,

Every Iris is black and morbid,

But these words cannot truly describe an Iris,


An Iris alone is the center of this gate,

The master and the key,

It holds everything to our wishes,

Everything to our demises,


Deep within every darkness there is a light,

If only you give the time to spare more than a glance,

And a light to every darkness,

So that there is truly no end to the arraying key of our mind and soul.