Enough said the blind man
sit down and listen to me.
Sit down? Where?
Truly we are in the street
but I can’t tell
if you sit or not
unless you speak.
You’re not sitting down.
Listen, you don’t know what I’ve
You interrupted. Listen.
I wasn’t always blind. There was
a time when I was deaf too.
Those days must have been quiet.
Oh yes. And dark. And untainted with any change
in the wind for I could not smell anything either.
Could you touch?
I could certainly do so as the limbs you see I possess
did not grow overnight. But I had no sense of touch or warmth.
Had you any senses?
Yes. I could taste and all that my world provided was through my tongue.
Why are you telling me this?
I give back with my tongue so you can close your eyes to open them. Revel.
Some, not all, of my senses have returned to me over time
and I reveal what I have. You who have never lost such can revel in your good fortune.
But most people have all their senses. What you tell me is nothing new.
Perhaps. Or perhaps you don’t appreciate. Not enough.
If wishes were horses
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