I feel the clumping clatter,
When you said, that 'life does matter'.
What angle do you mean?
Has the lens you use, lately, become unclean?

My lenses comfort, and alarm,
One my child, keep free from harm,
Later, focus to need,
Something new, a wish, too often greed.

Yet another comes, with a rush,
Distracting ghosts’ crippling hush.
A life-fixing lens,
Showing too, glimpses of the end.

Peer through my lens, for what is your life,
Gather power, avoid fear and strife?
You control, resists life’s tangle;
Reduce the toll, adjust to my angle.