The Sentinel

Sight served us – meek sentinel of the boundary.
The crystal lens beat against cold panes.
It raised walls at the edge of the soul,
Hiding the heart’s unreachable dimension.

It caught only form, never reaching the depths,
It measured grains of sand in blind pursuit.
It feasted on the mirages of the canvas,
True radiance froze upon the palm.

The shadow palls. Let this sight die,
Let the lens crack like a fragile sheet of ice!
Through all that is false, perishable, and old,
Darkness shall emerge – the deep truth.

Beyond the boundary of colors and words,
Black plenitude beholds from beyond the worlds.