The blind

Eyes closed fist-like but not his bat's radar
to see blindness plague all around. His bruised
pupils are an unfortunate handicap
but true vision does not require the eyes

save the light of his being that peoples
his life. Happy his blindness delivers
him from such externals as the things
of time and bestows upon him an inward

occupation ,to embellish what he looks like
from within, to achieve his greatest SELF.
Without walls, it's an enormous place,
oneself!




Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 45 times
Written on 2021-04-26 at 12:18

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jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
As Josephus said the last two lines are zingers...reminds me of someone saying "I contain multitudes"
2021-04-28


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Interesting perspective well posited in the last two lines!
2021-04-26