In the realm of sight where light holds sway,
A tale of vision, in poetic array.
Astigmatism, a condition's name,
Where the eye's lens plays a subtle game.
The cornea, a lens, smooth and divine,
Shapes light to the retina, a dance so fine.
Yet, in the twist of fate, irregularity takes hold,
A subtle deviation, a story to be told.
Cornea and lens, in curves so fair,
Directing light with meticulous care.
But in astigmatism's silent cue,
A tilt, a turn, a skewed point of view.
One direction favored, the other takes a back seat,
Light on the retina, in patterns discreet.
Blurred visions emerge, a distorted ballet,
A dance of shadows in the light's array.
Nearsightedness and farsightedness may join,
In the symphony of sight, a harmonious coin.
Symptoms whisper, a language unseen,
In the eyes' silence, a tale convenes.
Blurred visions, like misty dreams,
Eye strain's murmur, in silent streams.
Headaches linger, a subtle protest,
Squinting eyes, seeking a visual rest.
Comprehensive exams, the eye's wise guide,
Reveal astigmatism, where shadows hide.
Glasses adorn, like windows anew,
Correcting refractive errors, a vision true.
Contact lenses embrace the eye's gentle curve,
A dance with light, the vision to preserve.
LASIK's touch, a surgical art,
Reshaping cornea, a fresh-start.
In the symphony of eyes, a vigilant song,
Regular exams, where anomalies belong.
Astigmatism's narrative, a chapter to unfold,
In the book of sight, a story, untold.
