In the long view
one can see
the horizon,
and all in between.

A gaze
shows all
in a glance
but,
focus, the Ringmaster,
collars our attention
among many.

Attention: lost
upon all deemed
not worthy
of our visual aim.

So we see;
yet,
we don't
We hear;
but,
we don't.

Like a color wheel,
broken;
we get lost

in change
from
green
to yellow,
to orange
to red
to black:
the absence of light.

Light becomes
a glare.

Too bright,
seeing anything
that we thought
was.

His love,
her warmth,
his promise
her desire;
all lost in the real.