Dear Blind Man
Dear Blind Man,
Good morning?
Good night?
What should I say?
Forget it
Let me get on with the letter, if I may.
For this is the legend of the dead and the living
Though difference is thin
Read carefully
But don’t get lost Within
Seeping through His clothes are each and Every droplet,
Striking more and more Ambitiously
With each and Every wave,
Ostentatiously flaunting Their freedom
So unforgiving those droplets may seem
And so unkind indeed
But not so much so,
As He who remains Blind...
Desperately pulling a jacket between the Restless rain
And his saturated form,
He is there..
Trying to fend off the Arrogant droplets,
Trying to avoid the unavoidable
Trying to deny the truth That
He is vulnerable on the face of this Earth
The story of the Blind Man dates back decades,
To a thoughtless, unrestrained child
Wandering by the garden
Yanking leaves along the way
Rejecting the beauty of the victim’s essence
An act of rebellion for sure it is that he commits
Against the existence of true freedom
A freedom that blossoms with every leaf in that garden
A freedom that he so hopelessly desires to attain
But is destined not to..
Freedom is no more than an illusion for the Blind man.
The Blind man who refuses to accept the burden of reality,
The Blind man who seeks refuge in the deceiving depths of fantasy,
Every night it is his voice that cries in every bedroom,
As he dreams - it is his that echoes
“AT LAST,” he screams, “AT LAST I AM FREE!”
But Has he forgotten?
That freedom was reserved From people - like you and me
That we remain entrapped within a reverie of Fantasies
Where Freedom may perhaps not be As absurd and dreamy
So much to embrace,
And So little to complain..
Yet it seems as though the Blind Man cares
More so of what’s lost,
Than what there is to gain
Oh… Oh Imbecile fool!
Yes! It is you whom I speak to
What is it that you seek?
What is it that will satiate your insatiable desires?
Is it money? Is it fame?
Is life nothing to you?
But a Capitalist game?
I guess so.. I guess it’s true
That ingratitude
Is well so what defines you,
It is what blinds your view
Ah, Blind Man..
Open your eyes!
To see that those rain droplets are nonetheless than a sign
A sign whom awaits its time in Disguise
By which it slowly penetrates the dull, blue skies,
With the rainbow that offers not only vision,
But an eternal prize…
The Blind Man
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