MOHIT MITRA Poet Sonnet

Seeing's Theft

—When Seeing Turns Upon the Seer—



One look—no more; I ask no arms of thee;
Look, and let sight pronounce what words conceal;
I came not here to sue for sympathy,
nor bare my wounds that thou mightst call them real.
I came not for the holiday of hearts,
where love makes sport of what it cannot keep;
I came with nothing borrowed from the arts
by which the weak make treaties with the deep.

So look: what thou hast witnessed alters thee;
The eye, once opened, hath no backward door;
What thou hadst thought was yours to name or see
may stand beyond the judgement given before.

I asked no love; one look shall take its toll—
Now win, if thou canst, the self thy seeing stole.

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