ENTRANCE.

You whose eyes are turning grey
From trapping too much light,
Have wick to wax and emanate,
And wane when moons have height.
Your sun draws out the lines of here,
Whilst stars imbue the now,
Both escorts made well disappear
Beneath chromatic clouds.

You whose eyes reflecting me
From being dominant,
Have been too drawn and clearly
Unfocused on the end.
Your faith in me is absolute,
Whilst mine is relative,
Both unable to dispute
What either should believe.

You whose eyes are leaving sight
From seeing far too much,
Have slipped from day and into night,
And welcomed it as such.
You fell into the undergrowth,
Where love and hate conceive,
Both offered you a new rebirth
But you were glad to leave.

You whose eyes affecting me
From having been removed,
Have impacted dearly
And left me little proof.
You drew at last an open sign,
Whilst I revealed a cross,
Both parted for a final time
With nothing won or lost.

You whose eyes have closed for good
From taking too much aim,
Have made the world of words remove
The wonder from its game.
Detached and unseen ever more,
Whilst images remain,
Both well known and never sure
Whose sight to use again.