A stick in his hands, finding his
path
His life in darkness, adapted to its
wrath
There is no hope left, in pupils
burnt
Moisture has dried, iris bears a
shunt
All crevices to him are selfishly unkind
There he walks alone, Look he’s blind
Respected among fellows, radiated
power vibes
There was one battle more, he was
yearned upon to win
A scar but he incurred, a
reimbursement for his sin
Jeered along on the roads, he cannot
fight but grind
His teeth in vain, frets in pain,
Look He’s blind
He tries to weep, his soul so torn
Tears bereaved long ago, he tries in
vain, so worn
For the glories he thought were acts
of vendetta
He was punished from above from
crossing all moral mete
He drinks alone, drinks to death,
regrets his life rewind
Life gone blind, Soul gone blind….
Look he’s blind
Karma has it's way of paying you back for sins you've committed along life's path. Be kind to your fellow man, shed no blood unless in defense, pay homage to the gods and leave them with your love. Ending up without your sight you can no longer recognize your enemies and therefore you are an easy target of their wrath upon you and your soul. Well written my poet friend, I love your style. Peace and blessings to you and may you never lose your sight...
ReplyDeleteA mood of impending doom evoked here Rahul. Everybody can easily and willingly love and care for you when all is well in life. It is only when you have some character flaw or health issue that people flee and untrue friends distance themselves. It's just the concept of "survival of the fittest" at play. People fear those who don't follow the norm or fit into the ideal. They feel dragged down by such outcasts. The irony here is that blind man in your poem sees and knows more than those who are seemingly able to see him.
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