“Paint pictures for me.” said the blind man.
“Tell me what it`s like.
Is the sky a different shade when the sun is on my face?
Do the leaves of trees dance in the wind or do they shrivel and die?
Tell me. Tell me so I may know.”
“When the wind blows” he replied,
“The water on the lake shivers and ripples.”
“What is “ripple”? What does it look like? What does it do?
What colour is water?
Describe please. Tell me!”
“Water is the colour of the sky.
It reflects as a mirror,
Sometimes blue, sometimes grey.
Depending on the sky.”
“What`s “blue” like?
What is “grey”?
I want to know.
Tell me.”
“Blue is like the sunshine you feel on your face.
A glorious sky, you feel glad to be alive.
Grey is the sorry, sad rain in your soul.
A gloomy sky. Not good.”
“I would love to see this sad, gloomy sky that you dismiss.
I would love to see for myself.”
Jan Wharton
June 2014
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Author:
Jan bach (
Offline) - Published: April 19th, 2024 15:47
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
The way you ended it, emphasizes how much human mind values a first hand experience, no matter what experience, taking someone else's word for it, never suffices. It's a beautiful poem.
Thank you Alan, I'm glad you liked it.
Jan
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