Blind Man

Blind Man can't see one step ahead
every world at every moment
sprouts a new garden
full of new species

when everything touches
so deeply, even
the littlest thing –
Blind Man lives like this,
from one garden to another
sprouted waned and mulched to soil
until tomorrow, can't predict it
can't depict it
can't follow
Blind Man is unfollowable
unfathomable
unspiritual
living in the spirits' world
a world that's past us once we name it
world so fragile one can't say its name
a world so fine, memory can't encode it
a world that's all my life – I cannot show it
when I try to bring it out
it comes out in gibberish
and only my drunk mind
can make any sense of it
Blind Man is alone – know it
traveling on and on
where is always the unknown
the next phase doesn't live until
he makes the turn
right into the dark

Who won't tire of my sadness?
Who won't stay to know it all?
Who could breathe in every atom
of the world inside my chest?
Of the cosmos growing in me
changing in the name of beauty      
      

when something's felt you do not waste it;
find the ones that call your name
the private world, your home and birthright
with the gates that hold your curse
the private bedroom you alone
know too well – its siren call
at times possesses an entire ocean
to lure you out and once again alone

the doorways that your garden makes
disappear in one day's turn
you cannot explore each option
every path of every world
will live and die unknown
even to yourself
so much remains unburned
let the leaves that fall never burn up
they don't live but leave their imprints
in your garden's wake as you
walk along another body
through a door that wasn't there before

Every day you live like this
Every day does Blind Man go
on and on into the deepness