Here's another poem.
This change is excruciating, blinding.
And all I want to see is a reason.
Yet, in darkness I find sight in feeling.
Sight that was eclipsed in winter’s season.
The coldness numbing at the genesis.
For so long a chance to find light wasted.
But spring came, growing in this chrysalis.
Able to feel light though blind and tainted.
The light itself a truth, an evidence.
I will never be what I was before.
And though a thousand shocks took my substance.
Its internal mutation gave me more.
What’s through summer’s hidden door? I don’t know.
The key: observe, adapt, repeat- and grow.