If I am doomed to live shrouded, blind
with sick-green cloth o’er my eyes
Without my sight, I’ll have to find
the source of knots that my wrists tie
And blinded, with cold fumbling hands
to crawl through mist will be my fate
And sift through powdery ash and sand
and grasp at slipp’ry ropes, await
Eventual silent screams and burning ice,
the stillness that seeps through unused veins
From being used as knaves’ pawns and dice,
around their necks bridles and reins
But no one sees who controls all
and deaf men cry. And blind men fall.
YOU ARE READING
Butterfly Ripples
ŞiirButterfly ripples through water and wind fluttering petals, whispering wings. Words swing 'round trees carried in a breeze of butterfly ripples so do as you please. But don't taunt their song of water and wind: to it they belong and so they will sin...
