I cleaned my glasses....

This is what I used....

God's joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,

from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flower bed.

As roses, up from ground.

Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,

now a cliff covered with vines,

now a horse being saddled.

It hides within these,

till one day it cracks them open

("Unmarked Boxes" ~ Rumi)

 
I'm hoping to see things better now.