forest on canvas

I look to see; but what? Not for that a man's eyes meet.Everything is a gate. And for people-the gate is always closed and there stands a sentry who is none but the form of the thing one looks at.My eyes tiptoe to the thing and enter a silent zone across the gate. Slowly my look vanishes. I get rid of of my eyes when I find all of a sudden that the thing I have sought for a look-is neither near nor far. It exists as someone's muse.Whose?I know not. There is no existence of space and time is debarred from the eternity