The eye, a window to the world,

Clouded by glaucoma's silent storm.

Pressure builds, vision's radiance unfurled,

As darkness creeps, a relentless form.

Within the orb, an endless fight, 

Glaucoma's grip, a tenacious foe.

Mounting pressure, obscuring sight,

Slowly closing vision's very door.

The optic nerve, a pathway strained,

Dimming slowly, sight's decay.

Optic nerve, the casualty sustained,

Succumbing to this insidious sway.

Peripheral sight, the first to fade,

Darkness claims, steals light away.

Peripheral vision, the price we've paid,

To this disease's unyielding sway.

Yet hope endures, a guiding flame,

Treatments forged, a battle to be won.

Through the veil of fading, a chance to claim

The world's beauty, its radiance shone.

This unseen foe, glaucoma's might, 

Seeks to steal the light the world has shown.

But in the face of waning sight,

Resilience rises, a beacon grown.

To hold back time, defy the signs,

And keep the wonders of life in reach.

The eye, a window to the soul, aligns

With our resolve, the heights to breach.

With vigilance and unbreakable sight,

We face this challenge, stand resolute.

The world's splendor, our guiding light,

As we wage war against this sightless brute.