The Eyes of a Blind Owl

Ever since I saw it in the woods that day, walking behind my house, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It invades my dreams, and sometimes when I'm talking to somebody or doing something completely unrelated, it comes to me. Unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

That day, it was snowy, so I didn't at first see that owl. It was pure white with some black flecks, perched up in a tree. It turned its head when it heard me- that's what drew my attention to it, that sudden movement.

I froze in my tracks. Those eyes. I had never seen eyes like that before.

Wide, indigo orbs without visible pupils. White dots in irregular clusters were scattered throughout the owl's eyes, like galaxies.

It was blind- I knew it was blind somehow, but it stared right into me. I could see- those white clusters didn't just look like galaxies- they were galaxies.

Galaxies full of comets, asteroids, and planets. All in an instant, I saw the people, not unlike us, going about their lives with no idea that they lived on a tiny planet spinning in a galaxy nested in the eyes of a blind owl.

I didn't realize that I hadn't been breathing until the blind owl looked away from me and flew away, its wings cathing on the bare branches as it flew halfhazardly into the gray, winter sky.

I fell to my knees. Did they feel it when the owl flew, jolting and dipping?

Would I feel it? Was I right now, standing on a tiny planet spinning in the eye of a blind owl?

On that planet, were there more blind owls? And more and more, nested forever like Russian dolls?

Is all of eternity held in the eyes of a blind owl?