The Unblinking Gaze

The lens, a cold and unblinking eye, Surveys the streets, the corners, and the squares, A silent witness passing moments by, Recording joys and sorrows, hopes and snares. It sees the hurried footsteps in the rain, The lovers' whispered vows beneath the moon, The fleeting glimpse of pleasure and of pain, The thief's swift hand beneath the afternoon. Does it observe with judgment or with grace? Does it discern the motive in the deed? Or merely capture each familiar face, A digital and ever-growing creed? We live beneath its gaze, both free and bound, In this strange world where silence makes a sound. ©bfa042225