The Perfect Vision

I stood in front of a little wooden box
Mellow at first touch,
And coarse by the next
Curious, I slid open its crest.

It had two pairs of glasses
One rimmed with a golden frame
The other all rotten and rust
I decided, that try them I must.

The first one made me feel blessed
Vicious power flowed through my veins
My thought became a brute force
Venomous and unrestrained no questions arose.

I could vanquish anyone
Fates of men lay at my feet.
But deep within I was chained
My flesh burning and soul maimed.

It was nauseating to enjoy
All this wasteful merriment and glory.
The twins called Vanity and Fame
I no longer wished to claim.

I fumbled for next pair of glasses
Definite to see a godly vision
That will glimmer and sheen.
More mistaken I could not have been!

The vision was abhorrent.
There was only hunger and fear.
I confronted an unearthly chill
Death was, perhaps, a better pill.

It seems like I had ventured
Uninvited into devil’s own den.
Daunted by what was to come still
I removed the lens that made me so ill.

Is this all there is,
In this oasis called time?
I ask myself in the, now, lonely hall
Isn’t there a vision that works for all?

As if ordained by treacherous fate
Darkness engulfed me inside and out.
It dawned on me that I was on a stage
The perfect vision was but a mirage.

I stood in front of a little wooden box
Mellow at first touch,
And coarse by the next
I am no seer, but I think I know the rest.