The Darkness of Sight

Of sunny days, when the earth was kind,
I remember sitting, watching birds in flight
And the sun, if watched for long, will turn you blind,
But then slips below mountains, and out of sight
To a place beyond worlds, that you cannot find,
And sunset gives up to the realm of night.

It was upon a day that had fallen to night
When I met a stranger, not mean, nor kind,
Nor indifferent, for though he possessed sight,
Was to the world’s sorrows, a man gone blind.
His insight of his kinsmen had taken flight,
But he made no gesture to want what he could no longer find.

I thought to myself he was an interesting find
On this dreary, darkened, ancient night;
A man of my race, and man of my kind,
To have no want to use his sight
And to go through life, living it blind,
His charity, his conscience, his soul, taken flight.

And it made me think; maybe my soul took flight,
For these world’s troubles, I cannot find.
I’m groping through darkness, a world of night,
I don’t know the struggles of my own kind.
This man had opened my innermost sight
So I could now see, not walk in life blind.

I left that man, no longer walking blind
And I watched in the sky, fair spirits in flight.
I saw the very truth of my own kind,
Witnessing their souls, as black as night
And an ounce of friendship, I could not find,
I saw but hatred and anger with my sight.

Suddenly, I realized; what a curse was my sight!
And I wished to once more be walking blind,
But I went on, the curse not taking flight
And nowhere was peace and charity to find.
I could but crawl on, through my life of night,
Despising the wretched that was my kind.

Only in death would relief I find,
And if I wake, ere my life takes flight,
Then I pray that I will do so blind.