Cataract

In eyes where once bright visions danced,
A shroud of mist, a cataract's advance.
A clouded lens, a veiled sight,
A world now dimmed, in fading light.

The colors lost, the details blurred,
In shadows now, the world's obscured.
Yet hope does gleam, like distant stars,
For healing hands, 'neath moon and Mars.

The surgeon's skill, a guiding hand,
To clear the mist, to help us stand.
With tools precise and vision keen,
They mend the veil, the eye's lost sheen.

Phacoemulsification's artful touch,
A tiny incision, a lens to clutch,
Or extracapsular's wider door,
To give the eye clear sight once more.

Laser-guided, a modern way,
To make the night transform to day.
With IOL, the vision's grace,
The world anew, in crystal space.

The cataract, a fading blight,
Replaced with hope, with newfound light.
In ophthalmologists' skilled embrace,
We find our vision, our resting place