Tasting each flavor like abstract art Smelling the slightest changes Soaking the beat of sound in the heart Feeling the keys and the how it arranges
Inhaling the crisp air of an ocean breeze Caressed by tempos and harmony The sparsest sweet aroma noticed by the ease Stroking skin and sinking in lovingly
Drowning deep with tears flowing The ****** tang soaking the tongue Navigated by melodies controlling Heat slicing skin and searing lungs
Each sense fully fine-tuned Gathering the missing to advance Using each process to overcome wounds Yet still the wish for sight given a chance
I've heard blind people commonly have better senses of taste, smell, sound, and touch. Sometimes I wish I could lose a sense. Would I wish for its return or would I truly appreciate the world more without it? I guess I won't know unless it happens...
The clean church Christ hangs on rusty nails, dozen-fold years denied a resurrection, tied to everlasting pain and death, heaven denied, mortal redemption denied because the flesh, existing between hope and despair, refuses the soul’s release.
The congregation is dead to peace, only knowing the scrapping of their knuckles on the smooth stone- dead to the light, seeing only the night, dead to divine comprehension, dead to the angels hiding in their coarse crosses of common wood.
Outside the lamb bleats in the snow wandering unheard in the wilderness, fearing slaughter more than charity, wandering far from their muffled mouths, wandering far from their questioning, wandering far from their sense of things.
You took your rays, you silly sun, You thought you'd play a game You thought that I would wait Until you come back..
You did came back, The second day And I was still there But, you just didn't recognize me You shone your rays so you could find me You melted glaciers for me, But the more stronger your light, The more blind you became As I shone, too
What does red look like? Asked the blind man. Red Is the feeling of the hot sun in summer, it's the colour of shame, and anger, but also the colour of blushing.
What does green look like? Asked the blind Man. Green is the colour of life, and forests. Green is the feeling of of a tangled jungle, and fresh flowers.
What about yellow? He asked quietly. Yellow is the colour of sunshine, and warmth, and smiles. Yellow is the feeling of joy, and friendship.
And blue? The blind man asked. Put your hands into a bowl of cool water on a hot day, that peaceful feeling is blue. The feeling of blue is when you are in a pool, or floating down a river. Blue is relaxation and peace.
I can see it... It’s light... My destiny. I’ve finally reached it. My suffering was worth it. Now I can rest in peace. I close my eyes. The brilliant light, Taints my blindness Into a garnet red. I take a deep breath, And hold it’s welcoming hand. My mind. My heart. My soul. Are at ease... As I fade into nothingness...
You make me sick. Defying the truth And congratulating The deaths. You’ve ignored the signs And said it’s ******* fine.
How many more will it take, Until you’ll actually care? Bodies will pile Beneath your feet, But the real killer Is their blindness.
They consume every word, Bow to their knees and blow you, Violently risking safety And hitting freedom in the face. Since when was it The American Way To **** security?
I have no sympathy for them, The ones who claim An article of clothing is oppression. Their guns will be fine; No one’s taking them away. But there’s another killer Who could infect their cells, But they don’t care.