Blind

a poem i wrote in five minutes while watching the sun rise on a smoke break at work.

I can remember a time when the blind used to confide in the swollen
hearts of men like you and me. Reproachingly adherent to the falsity of
an existence without the trickery of light to guide them. What it must
be to never see the desecration of life that has become so normal. What
do we see but an image so blurred by the ultraviolet rays of stars we
will never be. All that we know is filtered illumination, lies of the
mind that interpret what passes through the eyes to form an image. We
will never see how things are supposed be within their true nature. We
are nothing more than a flaw in the scheme, led on by what we think we
perceive. Break free, break free my idle reader. Let the eyes close on
this sentence and picture the rest like the expectation of Christmas
morning. You may not get what you asked for, but at least you will know
that what i have given was with my best intentions.

Author's Note

see how it flows almost like a mountain ridge, cascading in meaning but plateauing in annunciation.

Reviews

[MOON]

Poignant beautiful we are nothing more than a flaw in the scheme... be grateful and gracious. Lovely thoughts and true.