Can the blind not envision a world around them, or is their mind's eye blind too?

We mill about our world, flaunting our edges, acting like we have a clue

Pardon any offense, Sun. For surely I mean none by it

But with your absence, and rain taking your place again

I realize, if you want the genuine feelings of someone

Give them a rainy day and a pen

When I was young,

The grass was greener
The sky was bluer
The clouds were whiter

But now that I'm older,

The bills are greener
The bruises are bluer
And the faces are *whiter

Determination as a river flows
Bending to gravity and the like
There's no knowing how far it goes
That is, unless you take the hike

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Currency of the cacophonous conumdrum carried onward in carnivals of catatonic cherubims trading virtual cadence for confidence and compliments.

Poetry
stops
the brain
and starts
the heart.

Teach me to
swim
in the
sound-waves
of your voice.