He (window): part 5 of The Red Letters

I call it perspective.
Everything is clearer
through this glass
refined by fire.
Like looking through
stained-glass, the world
is colored at every turn,
and I see,
as with other eyes,
the way illuminated
before me.
My blindness cures
my perception, for
if I could see,
this lens would blur
the vivid hues,
the lines of contrast
between black and white,
the clarity.

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