In the realm of sight's delicate domain, Where vision paints life's vibrant refrain, Glaucoma silently weaves its artful thread, A thief of light, in shadows it's spread.
A malady that slyly does conspire, To quench the flames of sight's warm fire, Within the orbs, where worlds we perceive, Glaucoma lurks, waiting to deceive.
Two forms it takes, distinct in its guise, Open-angle and angle-closure, where it lies, Open-angle, a stealthy, gradual creep, A silent thief, its secrets it'll keep.
A gradual rise, the pressure within, Till the optic nerve wears thin, Silently, it claims a vision's part, In its slow dance, a work of art.
Angle-closure, a sudden, painful foe, In a blink, sight's river may not flow, A medical emergency, its dire call, In the dark, it may let nightfall.
Risk factors abound, a list we may see, Age, family, and pressure's decree, Ethnicity, cornea's slender grace, Medical conditions in life's embrace.
Early detection, the shield we wield, To protect sight's treasures, never to yield, Eye exams, the vigilant watchman's gaze, To thwart glaucoma's secretive maze.
Medications, lasers, surgery's hand, To combat this thief's shadowy stand, In the realm of sight's fragility, We fight for vision's enduring ability.
Remember this thief, its quiet plight, In the eye's shadows, it seeks the light, Regular checkups, our armor and shield, To ensure that our sight will never yield.
