#1845-Viewpoints
When days look hazy,
I strain my eyes,
Hoping clarity arrives.
It’s often pointless,
As perspectives,
Only slightly change.
But when I stand back,
Staring with different eyes,
Something takes shape,
I can understand.
Each and every day,
Using the same lens,
Is a mindless mistake,
I seem to have learned.
But where or when,
Is as unclear as reflections,
Dancing in the ripples of a lake.