Not just focus, but the currency,
a minted coin in a fleeting hand.
We spend it: on a headline,
a stranger's voice,
the curvature of a galaxy
unseen by unseeing eyes.
This spending is a choice,
a turning of the lens
on a world that arrives
in a torrent of unmade light.
One coin buys the whole sky,
blurry with possibility.
Another, a close-up,
the fractal symmetry of a leaf.
Our vision is not given,
but purchased.
The image we hold is a truth we invent,
paid for with the gold of a single, lucid moment.
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