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Blind


Who is it 
that gathers my tears
when I am beset with grief
and despairing fears?

Who is it
that lights my wick
when I stay awake in the cold
diseased and sick?

Who is it 
that sings my song
while I remorse and repent
for an irreparable wrong?

Who is it
that takes my hand
when I am left all alone
with no earth to stand?

Unseen friend, come vis-a-vis
from the black, stygian abyss
from the enveloping nothingness, Mirabilis!

evince once, your radiant visage
a fleeting glimpse of the ephemeral beauty
a flashing vision of the naked truth
one brilliant moment of lucid sight
in a blind man's dark, dreary life.   

– Sreenivas Kasturi
 

 


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