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Poem	To those fixed on white, White is white, To those fixed on black, It is the same, And red is red, Yellow, yellow- Surely there are such sights In the many colored world, Or in the mind. The strange thing is that These people never see themselves Or you, or me. Are they not in their minds? Are we not in the world? This is a curious blindness For those that are color blind. What queer beliefs That men who believe in sights Disbelieve in seers. O people, if you but used Your other eyes You would see beings.
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