Blind Vision

Missing the point,
Not seeing the way,
Ignoring the signs that spoil my own precious ideas
That pry apart petrified beliefs to peer inside,
I go blind.

In the shadow of my own predicament
I pass,
Distracted by superfluous needs and disastrous desires
By the way side walking alone
On busy streets.

Each time I, in the distance, sense a match
Between the experience of my life
And what I must somehow become,
When I see the truth,
My heart quickens with hope.

I wish to belong:
In a world with giving and receiving,
Where each piece fits
And somehow each moment's events
Builds a cosmic palace.

I long to be blind:
To people's skin and patterns of speech,
To image and facade,
To envision clearly the world, broken,
But in silent recreation, hidden and wondrous.

 

© Copyright 1999, Douglas Decicco, 181 Dogwood Lane, South Windsor, CT - This poem may be duplicated and distributed freely provided the following three restrictions are adhered to during the duplication and distribution of said poem, regardless of the number of recursive duplications or distributions made:
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