Indistinct silhouettes milling about
Having left the light through a blue door
Idling in a world of bright colors and distractions
We become individuals then forget
Slowly over time,
crafting thick wooden beams of support
Fashioning a suitable eye
Seeing only the shapes and colors
Relinquishing the depths
Casting about in confusion
The ache propels
Then the light lovingly whispers:
Look through the spaces
Return to me