ofttimes, my mind rebels,
against the hand that reality
has (seemingly) dealt us.
the creatures, monsters to some,
living and breathing in the shadows
are burnt away in suns clear rays.
as a child i once questioned
and then decided that
a life of magical thinking, even
if proved false, would be preferable to
a life with all the wonder limited
to the over-clear rays of a microscope.
but now, as i sit on the wrong side of time,
i see the wonder in the microscope,
its construction, and the structures
revealed in its glance.

Christopher Withers

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/over-clear-rays/