Crystal windows rest,
Glistening at the faintest of lights
Its ivory body filled with luster and glints of awe
Pure, neither tainted nor cracked.
Iris is at an ocher hue with umber undertones,
A mandala etched by nature on polished stone
Centering a void that engulfs
All that gaze upon the ascetic purity it holds

"Its fairness is a lie," cried the Right eye.

Ruby stone fractured,
Crumbling at the gentlest blow of wind
Its crimson dyed sheen is broken beyond repair
Bloodshot, both pained and aggrieved.
Iris is jet as the night that is starless,
Singularity of corruption and indignation made stone
At one with the entropy
Emanating from its core, its truth breaking away

"Says you who bathes in rusted scarlet!" shouts the Left.

But both window to the patriotic soul fail to see
That their visions made one is what's needed
In steering society towards a panoramic view of tomorrow.