Sight served us - meek sentinel of the border,
The crystal lens beat against cold glass.
It raised walls at the edge of the soul,
Hiding the heart's unreachable dimension.
Caught only form, never reaching the bottom,
It measured grains of sand in blind chase,
Drank in the canvas's mirages.
True radiance froze upon the palm.
The shadow wearies. Let this sight die,
Let the lens crack like brittle ice!
Through all that is false and perishing and old
Darkness will show through - the deep truth.
Past the border of colours and words
Black plenitude looks on from beyond the worlds.