The Sight

Whenever he sets his mesmerizing sights on me,

For instance, I forget who I should be,

Brain fogs and thoughts buzz like a bee,

I feel drowned yet don't long to flee.

Ah! Those dark, deceitful, encaptivating globes,

Hinting at the presence of parallel worlds,

Earth stained in brown shades; the universe in whites,

Embracing central singular star's echoes.

Following me are the apertures even at rest,

Making a way from eternity to forest glade at best,

Imprinting my mind with memories like creases with a little jest,

Will it be a beginning of the explicit knightly gest?