He was born this way
In a world filled with light
But none of which he could witness
They simply called him ‘The Blind Man’
As he wasn’t very unique in any other way
Entranced in his wanderings and musings
One could spot him
At the corners of supermarkets
Wandering and loitering, almost interchangeably
Nobody had ever approached him
Even the notion of ‘parents’ was alien to him
As they had apparently thrown him out, at the sight of his unreflecting eyes
Perhaps this gave him a tint of bitterness
Thus, The Blind Man lived
Approaching life with the barest of efforts
Considering by the second why he couldn’t end it
It was in this musing which he found himself that fateful day
Once again enveloped in his blanket of self-pity
But, for the first time, found himself approached by another
She was a petite little thing
Able to count the years she had lived in the palm of her tiny left hand
But her heart was greater than most foretold to be older (and somehow ‘wiser’)
It may have been a comedic sight for an outsider
A blind, helpless wanderer approached by a pure, innocent creature
Yet, such a sight invoked a saga told through generations
He asked her what she desired, as he had never experienced another’s interest in him
She said nothing, only holding up what seemed to be the smallest of morsels
He never found out how he understood her meaning
Only that the smallest of her motion seemed to move the world around him
He wondered, as he accepted the small portion of cheese and bread
Wondered how suddenly the world had become so bright
How the smallest of hands
Could somehow give the most
The Blind Man had lived his life in darkness
Shunted away from society, convinced of its malice
But sometimes, all it takes is the smallest kindness
To change the greatest of convictions
He asked her for her name
And she whispered it out sweetly, before being shunted away by her wide-eyed parents
He mouthed the innocent syllables silently
And then, for the first time in his life
The Blind Man opened his eyes
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
He was born this way
In a world filled with light
But none of which he could witness
They simply called him ‘The Blind Man’
As he wasn’t very unique in any other way
Entranced in his wanderings and musings
One could spot him
At the corners of supermarkets
Wandering and loitering, almost interchangeably
Nobody had ever approached him
Even the notion of ‘parents’ was alien to him
As they had apparently thrown him out, at the sight of his unreflecting eyes
Perhaps this gave him a tint of bitterness
Thus, The Blind Man lived
Approaching life with the barest of efforts
Considering by the second why he couldn’t end it
It was in this musing which he found himself that fateful day
Once again enveloped in his blanket of self-pity
But, for the first time, found himself approached by another
She was a petite little thing
Able to count the years she had lived in the palm of her tiny left hand
But her heart was greater than most foretold to be older (and somehow ‘wiser’)
It may have been a comedic sight for an outsider
A blind, helpless wanderer approached by a pure, innocent creature
Yet, such a sight invoked a saga told through generations
He asked her what she desired, as he had never experienced another’s interest in him
She said nothing, only holding up what seemed to be the smallest of morsels
He never found out how he understood her meaning
Only that the smallest of her motion seemed to move the world around him
He wondered, as he accepted the small portion of cheese and bread
Wondered how suddenly the world had become so bright
How the smallest of hands
Could somehow give the most
The Blind Man had lived his life in darkness
Shunted away from society, convinced of its malice
But sometimes, all it takes is the smallest kindness
To change the greatest of convictions
He asked her for her name
And she whispered it out sweetly, before being shunted away by her wide-eyed parents
He mouthed the innocent syllables silently
And then, for the first time in his life
The Blind Man opened his eyes
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