A matter of Ego Behind tempered glass, within eyeshot. Fabric of mine looming over the Unbound. Modern Ulysses, it soars the sea weaving Stories to people. A cosmesis of the mind, My sweet Nausicaa The apple of your eye Forbidden fruit, so gently placed Upon my path, I should not have craved. Hubris on my side Even blind I see you. Punishment of my perfection Even crippled I walk with you. Pencil paper glass and steel Collect dust and gold. Tools forever at your door. poetrythreads