A poet searches
thru the light to find.
Where inspiration lives.
Where the words
are the visions of dreams
that flow
thru his soul
and take him with.
To where it is his heart does live
and his spirit guides his sight.
Flowing from within
directing his pen,
in endless streams of delight.

A blind man searches
thru the night to see.
His dreams his only vision
And the only light
he’s ever seen,
knowing only intuition.
If he were to paint a picture
what a wonder it would be.
From his spirit it’d
have to flow,
and be, guided by his dreams.
Abstract visions of places
that pass in lighted streams.
Wondrous visions of beauty
he’s never had sight to’ve  seen.