That Old Lens

Nothing is seen, nothing is glimpsed,

Not one line, not one dot,

no thing is ever seen

but through a lens.

Each one makes their lens to measure,

it’s shaped each day and changed to suit,

tinted by their faith, family and philosophy

but do they see the lens.

Do we study or even glimpse,

do we scrutinize or just ignore

the scratches, marks and dents

on that old lens.

Each glass casts the world in shade,

each of us sees not the same.

Our lens shapes life and love

and hopes and dreams

and even dreams of hope,

but do we see,

that old lens.

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