How does one prove,
That one is never really ready,
To change the only way they knew,
And did,
While reason pointed the other way,
Because one was fighting something else,
That is deceptively protective,
And in truth,
Defensively walled in.
Holding on to literal metaphors,
Was the only way,
To hold on to 'truant' thoughts,
Because who ever really knows,
When it began
And where she will end,
And it wasn't until
Unknowingly
She flicked out the lens,
To accomodate a new one,
And saw herself clarify,
Crystallise,
And feel
Contradictorily,
At home
Yet free.
This new layer
Is intriguing.
It asks for the entire
Paradigm to change
And yet is so poignantly
Easy, that one
Wants to slide in
In jerks and stops,
Just to ensure
That the slide is better
Remembered and better
Enjoyed for posterity.
Didn't know, that
"Take what is mine without
Asking",
Is unfamilarly
Familiarising,
Rather than
Uncomfortably invading.
Peeling off
Takes some asking,
But it happens
And lets your vision
Breathe.
Perhaps the only way to explain something as irrational as throwing your contact lenses out to accomodate another's is to elevate it to something more poetic. Pfft!
