20 20 Vision But can We Really See?

In a world that boasts of 20/20 vision,
Do we truly see the path we’re on?
Blinded by illusions, we stumble in confusion,
Calling darkness light, until true vision’s gone.

Bartimaeus sat by the roadside, blind yet aware,
Of the Healer passing by, he had heard.
“Son of David, have mercy!” was his prayer,
Recognizing truth in a living Word.

Oh, the clarity of the blind man’s sight,
To know the light when shrouded in the dark.
Yet we, with open eyes, betray our own plight,
Mistaking shadow for substance, missing the mark.

We’ve traded the sacred for the profane,
Inverting the order of creation’s decree.
We’re lost in the noise, numbing the pain,
Of a silent cry for true clarity.

20/20 vision, a phrase so pristine,
Yet our souls are clouded with cataracts thick.
We follow the neon-lit screens,
Ignoring the whispers of the ancient mystic.

Bartimaeus, blind but with inner sight,
Knew the Messiah’s voice through the clamor.
In his cry, “Have mercy!” he found the light,
While we grope, chasing every glamour.

Oh, to have the courage of the blind,
To call out for sight, for clarity.
To recognize the One who heals the mind,
And frees us from this self-made calamity.

In this 20 20 vision world, we’re blind to plight,
Turning a cold gaze from the weary and worn.
The poor, the oppressed, left out of our line of sight,
As we scroll past lives, unseen and forlorn.

We praise progress, yet step on those who fall,
Exploiting the labor of hands we ignore.
In the margins, the voiceless make their silent call,
But we’re deaf to the cries of the broken and poor.

Our cities gleam, but shadows linger near,
Where the lost and forgotten fight battles alone.
We build monuments high, yet draw back in fear,
From the suffering souls we pretend to disown.

The sacred is traded, the holy profaned,
In a world that adores the glossy and grand.
Yet each false light dims, leaving spirits strained,
While we miss the touch of the Healer’s hand.

Oh, that we’d have sight beyond the veil,
To see the unseen and the wounds they bear.
To reach for the truth, though comforts fail,
To notice the faces that no one will care.

If we, like Bartimaeus, cried out to see,
Would we dare look beyond our crafted walls?
Would we see each life as sacred, free,
And answer the cries from the least of us all?

20/20 vision, but can we really see?
Beyond the surface of our crafted lies,
To the depths of truth that could set us free,
If only we’d open our heart’s eyes.