Unseen and Unheard

Holding my hand guiding me to a garden of roses, He whispered , “spiral your way into the synthetics of voices and noises , Navigate through the patterns of Braille textures “, I held his hand , to only feel the drips of his helplessness , Smiling softly as I gasped into the spring air , The softness of the fresh fragranced petals brushed against my fingers , Feeling the senses running through my veins more than he could ever begin to imagine ,, If only he could see the light in my darkness , And hear the voices in my head , He would not give me the stares of confusion , True that , the mirror seems like nothing but just a word, waking up to a receded eyesight could be every reason to bleed, I found my comfort through the silence of colours , As my heart cried louder in the quiet stillness of the night, The harmonies of the wind , The warmth of the sun and change of tides , Somehow the seasons seems to be more clearer in the shaded shadows, I felt the pain in his tears trying to blend into the rain, Indeed he could fool the ones with vision , For I am no stranger to the constant battles of dark revisions, Though I felt his intricate precision , I held his chest only to hear his sighs and highs , I refused to surrender into the darkness of the blind, Living in the creation of the world in my own mind