Observation
Maybe his are calloused hands,
Who will ever see?
Sheathed in gloves when they touch,
their grip like steel made to restrain
not to hold
Tenderness? nil return
- uncompromising -
Maybe his are fearful thoughts
Who will ever know?
If they are full of fire and steel,
or they threaten to reveal
- regret -
What does a man in iron think?
You can take the helmet, but to find
a face as hard as the Mando steel
Revelation? nil return
Maybe his are pensive eyes
that hide behind that mask
full of dark and depth and fire
mirrors of hopes and of -
But in his eyes the sudden
- vulnerability -
quickly retreats behind the sadness
of knowing the world too well