In youth, we never truly know our youth,
And in old age, we fail to know our age.
The sun and the moon, bound by time,
Can never behold each other’s light.
The day and the deep darkness—
Even they exist, forever blind to one another.
If beauty is the reason we love, then tell me
How do the blind fall in love?
What value is fair skin when the heart knows no kindness?
If mirrors reveal who we are, why do they never show our fears, our courage, our grace?
If black skin we question a lot, tell me what do you think about Black Panther?
If chubbiness is the reason for rejection, the tell me why you find elephants endearing?
If white is the colour of beauty,
Why is the birthplace of love, the heart, red in every body?
If face is what makes us stay, Why do we miss the dead?
I call them fool when they see beauty from their weak eyes,
I call them wise when they seek goodness in the soul,
I call a palace, a stone when no love makes it whole,
I call them blind, when they praise butterflies and shoo cockroches,
I call them racist, when they call white, pretty,
I call them patients, when they obese others,
I call them mad, when they joke about disabilities.
I call them human, Because we all judge too quickly.
blindness of the heart
the actual true blindness
not of the own eyes!
blindness of the heart is the real blindness. Not blindness of the eyes!
You are so very far away
Like a lone star
In the endless desert of the cosmos
You burn in living fire
Pouring out a radiance
Brighter than the sun itself
Yet you are distant ...so distant
No human eye beholds you
No poet sings of your beauty
No weary soul is warmed by your light
Perhaps one day
You will burst like the stars
Shatter into flame
And bloom like a flower in the void
Increasingly ob sure
A world not meant for me
My eyes are slowly fading
Slowly fading away
A crowd if people all around
But not a single face
I cast my eyes onto the ground
But not out of disgrace
My vision now is failing me
And escape js far away
Inside is a wailing plea
Don’t let it all go gray
Hazy at a breakneck pace
I live in constant fear
The prettiest part about my face
Wells with lifeless tears
Will I ever see again?
Will I ever read?
Can I put my words to pen
In ways others can heed?
Fear of the unknown
Has never struck my heart
But knowing is what has been shown
To give me such a start
I wish to see the the world again
So vibrant bright and true
No matter how hard I pretend
This plight has got me blue
My eyes are failing rapidly
And frankly I am scared
So I have the capacity?
Am I so prepared?
To face a world without the light
To face a world so dull
To know my lamps are a blight
Rotting inside my skull
I looked at the bright side so much,
I became blind.
As darkness found me I began to see,
everything I was intended to.
I began to cry and
for the first time I saw beauty in the ashes.
How does blindness come to be selected
As if the choice was a benefit
How does blindness become selective
As if we know what's best for us... or anyone
How can the knowing become unknown
As if creation is ours alone
How can the unknown become acceptable to the blind
When blindness was the choice
We had the way sent from above
then kept the parts we like,
and handed back the rest and now
we don’t even think twice.
It’s like it never happened yeah,
just like it never even was,
but there is no escaping it.
It’s coming back because
He’s coming back yes, it is true
then how will things play out?
In one day can we just adjust?
We know that life’s about -
having the opportunity
to learn to live his ways.
So then how is it possible
we’ll change in just one day?
We won’t, don’t fool yourselves
because we’ve played this all so couth,
we’ll someday have to face the fact…
we can’t handle the truth.
The witch sits at the window looking out
Seeing nothing but her own self no doubt
Reflected in nature’s grass and trees
All she sees is only that with which
her proud sense of herself agrees
So she cannot interact with it
And if the world presses itself upon her face
She screams in horror as if attacked in disgrace
By swarms of insects ready to sting
This is how it is here with us with almost everything.
All the nothingness that ever was
Is shrivelled up into the void of non-being
A hole of empty self-righteous laws
Of arrogance and self-justification non-seeing
Existing as a thing but not alive as being.
And the difference between living being
And nothingness is infinite.
sand blistering hot
throat parched I need water
ah an oasis
where could it have went
it just upped and disappeared
it was a mirage
With God’s presence all around me,
Yet His gift is missed.
Unknown by many who surround,
Their blindness fills my heart with sadness.
For disbelief clouds what is clear,
How could they fail to see?
His omnipresence, bright and pure,
Hidden in the shadow of doubt.
His grace, a gift they need to hold,
A light to guide, a love untold.
Yet in their hearts, an unseen flame,
Burns quietly, waiting to claim,
God’s gifts.
The blind man is the one who sees most
the spiritual things...
he believes in what he sees...!
It is not a person who is born blind,
who does not want to see,
but rather out of convenience...!
I grew up blind
The kind that fades away with the gaping eye of knowledge
word on the tip of every patriotic tongue was independence
Little did my shut brain know, sham was a better word for it
The physicality was removed, that is certain
But ideas and creeds are still sung, venerating them
It’s as if our souls were trained for the job-faultlessly
Yet freedom is cried out from the fantasy of the beholder
How could it be that they quantify us unchained?
When the model of sophistication and elegance embellished
Fall in the wondrous sculpture molded of anything but our culture
Language is deemed "uncouth,” evermore forgotten as ancestral splendor
Colonialism ended to let on a superior beneficial exploitation
What better shrewdness than one concocted in plain sight?
We’ve seen their pockets outgrow them with our gold, our dignity
While we’re outran by their wars, and still, we grow old-blind
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