Blind Knowledge
I stretch my hands in the moisty space ahead,
hoping to know the face I ever wanted to see.
But hope fades when there is no such of thee,
and now I know what is simply to be dead.
I stretch my hands again in the space in front,
hoping to know the exit of this such pain.
But I know again I will be trapped in vain,
looking for the one I surely know is far beyond.
But even though I stretch my hands to the sky,
begging Lord to give me the power to glance,
just one time the way my eyes have to spy.
And then I’ll know for sure I’ll have the chance,
to stretch my hungry fingers instead of die,
To watch the soul I always meant to find.
Copyright © Manoel Neto | Year Posted 2011
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