to ask.
What is it that you see
as the sifting sands roar past?
Is it life when you can claim
That a blind man
Sees color more truly
Than yourself?
Sight has no baring
For mind.
And while this compass may not
point North--the charts read sideways.
And while this dazed denizen
May find beauty in the blue color
of the sky--What is it that makes him
Shy?
For all the moments when
Indifference stands potent
For inebriated
words.
The flowers will spring
One by one. In all
The summer's seasons and surprises.
A man looks up.
To the sky--perhaps
But one can see that hope
Is found in hoping
He sees the rain.
Endeavor the find
That a penny--a two sided
coin--acts as a stimuli
to the mind.
For one side is
Simple. While the other side
Bares what sight lets you
see.
The blind man, however, does not
see it. Yet the rain that
falls can still be
heard.
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Hope you liked it. You may need to read it more than once to get it
