I’ve passed by an old window, many times!
With a frame older than time, with washed out paint!
Mounted on a wall, surrounded by many chimes!
Silent; no complaint!

On the other side, sitting an old man!
On an old chair, by the candlelight!
A man with no eyes, a blind man!
Quiet; so polite!

Once, I wondered:
What could that old man see?
Staring behind the window each day
Yet no eyes!
Has he ever seen a blossom?
The winters ice?
A rainy day, morning dew
Or a river rush to the sea?

A bird flying by
The summer breeze
Shivering leaves
The miniature roses branching out beneath the window?
The moonlight, autumn leaves
A gushing brook running through a thirsty desert
The murky eaves?
Or a greenish meadow?

“He perceives what you don’t”: The window whispered!
“He sees with his heart, not the eyes!”
“You witness the outer”! The window answered!
“He discerns the within, not the dyes”! 

February 20, 2009