Through the naked eye

In the apparent seclusion of where he was seated

amongst a throng of figures and hazy silhouettes

he narrows his eyes to what lay ahead of him.

He looks, he stares, at times even lingering

over some object in the distance 

or some person in the shadows.

In the midst of the crowd, silently screaming,

he reaches out to the world,

a world that seemed to rejoice

in the cold emptiness of its every component.

In front of him was a spectacle 

of kids and couples and happy folks.

But none of it seemed truly solid

for faces did not resemble faces

and objects were merely imprints of objects.

And there he was, amongst it all

his eyes full, his mind blank

looking but failing to see

reaching out yet never reaching.

All it took for his world to tumble

was a pair of spectacles, lost,

taking with them a whole other existence.