A world,

Crystal clear of impurities,

Is gone

Until those magic instruments

Are once again

Placed upon the mud brown seas of seeing.

A camera out of focus,

Unable to clear the picture.

Faint forms.

Outlines undefined.

Colors flow

From one to the next.

A dirty world, true.

My world,

Though.

I like the clean world better.

The real world.

But maybe mind is closer

To reality.

Where things are not so sure

Of themselves,

And definitions are ambiguous.

Where it is unclear

Where things begin

And others end.

A world

That one cannot survive in

Without help.

I must be able to distinguish

This from that,

One from two,

Truth from lies,

Right from wrong.

I like the clean world better.

Where a period ends a sentence,

And flawless images are seen.

Without my glasses,

It is an unclear world.

Reality?

Definitely.