Sight/Lines

Through battered, weary eyes

And a quarter inch of glass

Have I seen you.

Blinded by self-told lies

And a jagged past

Have I seen you.

Have I seen you?

How much is lost to this refraction?

If but a fraction of your essence

Is dulled by optic obsolescence,

I fear I'll never see what's pure and true.

Just know that even if it's frayed,

Or distorted in some other way,

I'll always seek the sight of you.