As the wandering eye first lays eyes on-

or so it seems- those who had accompanied it,

for each entity retained in its unstable life thus far,

finally one is revealed that sees them in perfect clarity.

Defined and scried until hardly remains a question

of a single detail about them.

Clarity, clarity, to see how they grew with thyself;

grew with thy own stages, thy own stories.

Relationships: ever, never changing,

shifting all of their own.

Yet the clarity that sees all cannot be sought

through the fog of the ages:

maturity is never quite wrought.