Knock knock whose there?
Me, the blind man was the response.
And where from? asked the other
From the catacombs that cover years of deaths and years of solitude in caskets of not so forgotten years.
Where then and why are you blind? asked the dim voice from within the sarcophagus that laid asleep within its dark encased catacomb.
Well. it laughed.
That’s because I asked too much and was forced not to see and not to judge with my eyes.
But then, I smell.
I perceive what was upon those thirty nights and thirty days
even when the sun has lapsed
‘cause then when I feel the sun go down
all is quiet-
within my blindness.
The moon uplifts
For me to judge and proclaim
What is to then be seen
within my nose that smells.
Ahh… the other sighed.