Map the Following Path

I walk down a dirt path.

There are many options

Some that are grassed,

Some flowered,

Some even defy nature.

My best interest isn't to question them;

Tis only to map them for future use.

I stare at the paths and plot them down.

As I look over the birthed writings and drawings,

I feel something is missing.

I look up again:

The view gets fuzzy.

I wasn't in need of glasses for them before.

I strain my eyes and mind.

Surely they'll be clearer than crystal again.

Maybe I can fill in blanks.

I attempt to draw and write anew.

I look up, but someone cut the cornea line.

I look down, and I fail to separate

Which memories were fact or fabricated.

I close my eyes and look up to see...

A plain dirt path where corneas can't catch the chimerical.