mhall46184@aol.com
The Man Born Blind
We are all born blind, and stumble through our lives
In darkness lost along the River Styx
While clinging to our long-accustomed fear
As if it were a rule to be obeyed
The light is offered, then usually denied
As if it were yet another cruel joke
Long promised and then suddenly yanked away
More lost hopes rotting among the mouldering leaves
For some the obscure is more comfortable
Than promised light that never seems to shine
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