The way I see the world through my eyes, one blur.
I can see ghostly shapes but no definite figure.
The world did not always look like this through my eyes.
When I was a child this was not true,
But when I grew up and allowed myself to be corrupted with the pollution of the world,
Eyes no longer projected a clear image; rather they started to project one big blur of color.
One I can barely make out.
The evening before the Deluge, 1843