Many have said that eyes are the windows to the soul, for animals as well as for humans. We as humans seem to have a fascination with eyes, even going so far as to fear things that do not have eyes, or that cannot blink. We extol animals with human-like eyes (labradoodles, anyone?), yet shun things with eyes that are not humanoid in nature (octopodi spring to mind).
But this is not what I was planning to talk about. Not really.
The world grows and changes. Magma erupts from the surface, spraying to become lava as it touches the air, cooling to form solid rock. Water hisses to steam as pure fire meets the sea, sending a column of warring elements to the skies. Creation is in the air, watched by the eyes of the stars.
From the trees, eyes are watching. From the trees, down swing apes who stand upon their back legs. They test the ground, balancing and staring ahead at a horizon just out of sight. They walk into the grasses with heads held high, following a siren's call and a vision just out of reach.
There are buildings in the grass now, little huts made out of mud and sticks. The standing-apes are there now, balded and clothed in the skin of once-living denizens of the grasses about them. They have changed, but also not changed. Their bodies are bare, but their eyes... Their eyes are distant, still trying to spot the vision they followed.
Now, oh now, the buildings are speeding past faster than ever. Growing, changing, all watched by thousands of eyes. Shining, growing ever taller and faster, life speeds around, watched by thousands of eyes. Eyes of animals, eyes of upright-apes, eyes of metal and glass. Eyes are always watching.
But what is this? The eyelid falls, pauses, and rises, another blink in the life of an eye, cleaning itself. And everything is gone.