We’re all born blank, but as we spin
a lens creeps brinkwards, sharpening
our lives on us
bit by bit.
We yearn to fill with simple light,
a golden spiral, smooth and tight
to bridge us from
core to brink.
But what we get, in part, depends
on what the great computer has
in store to pass
through our lens.
And also on our spin’s cadence.
Too slow, the spiral’s curves expand
and leave big gaps
cold and dark.
Too fast, the spiral’s curves collide
exposing twice or thrice the dose.
Such strength of light
blows a fuse.
Or if our lenses wobble or warp,
our worlds become distorted,
We’re also prey to sharp events
unhoped by lens, some so intense
we stick and skip,
scraped and scratched.
With all the aforementioned threats
some fret away what they’d protect.
Some get reckless.
Some get wrecked.