Through eyes once bright, now dulled by haze, A cloud of cataract steals the gaze. But hope arrives in hands so skilled, Where modern science has fulfilled.
Phacoemulsification’s gleam, Turns once a dream into a stream, Of light that pours through fractured glass, To clear the vision's darkened pass.
Ultrasonic waves do hum, As fragments of the lens succumb. The surgeon's touch, precise and sure, Breaks down the cloudy lens obscure.
Through a cut so small and keen, A wondrous sight is soon foreseen. The fragments gone, in silence drawn, And from the haze, a new day's dawn.
An intraocular lens takes place, Restoring vision, form, and grace. No stitches needed, just a touch, Of careful hands that give so much.
Under lights of sterile white, Eyes once dim now see the light. A future bright, clear and bold, With phacoemulsification’s hold.
A gentle healing, swift and sound, A second sight, where once was bound. The world anew, with colors bright, Through lenses clear, restored to light.
