He started to call me your imminence,
because his lenses were scratched with doom.
He really couldn’t see so clearly—
even when I was focused in on zoom.
It wasn’t his fault those spectacles
were etched with impending atrocity.
The point is, beloved reader,
he used his heart, instead, to see.
He knew his glasses were faulty—
some worn-out optics from childhood.
So, he plugged his heart into something bigger,
setting the pace for something good.
For a minute, pieces fell from the worn-out frames
and scraped him up on their way down.
He finally invested in a supportive network
like resin glue and chemical compound.
He picked up those broken, fragmented shards
and began arranging some isotrope.
Piece by piece and step by step,
he worked his spectacles into a kaleidoscope.
Now to this very brow-beating day,
the immenence of gloom—impending—
rests in the optics newly-fashioned lenses.
He’s getting better at color bending.