Blindness As It Is
They were there always
In a sense, and out of sense
Deep as a prowling tiger sifting in, and sifting out of a constant flow,
As if to be a river.
But who are they, they are as the tiger chases them,
the prey.
They who are in binds, running, and since they run in fear,
to the tiger they are all the same
they shall run, always.
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