Behind the lenses
Are eyes that are patient
They observe and have
The nerve for waiting
To see what might be
Made of the blank slate
Reflective glasses
Mirroring the observed
Back to themselves
As they wonder what thoughts
Lie behind the opaque mask
What ideas lurk
And what poison
Must perk
A mask to shift
Quiet and cold
Incalculable
Beyond those
Mirrored nerves
Consume Reality! 