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Blind
by
T L Taylor
Eyes, they
see me, but she does not;
there is one who does,
yet it is the other who should.
For it is her I see.
At some distant time, I saw the latter.
The trails and tribulations
of time, of life, of love
have since blinded me.
For years I wandered
through the darkness,
though not alone—
for we all, at some point
are engulfed by the abyss—
then a miracle happens,
and I can see again.
The darkness has lifted
but there is still a mist,
a haziness of uncertainty;
the knowledge that
though her eyes see me,
she does not.
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