Pariah
Sight is as fickle as the last dream before waking,
That which should be discernible may never be clear.
The visionless masses know not what they're lacking
And they cannot miss what they've never held dear.
A sculptor am I who still carves my own image,
The better for all the poor blind men to see.
So they may feel amity with the one stood before them,
With the junque at their side, a sense of camarderie.
Yet i remain the pariah, and know they cant see it.
With eyes tightly closed, they'll remain in the shade.
If doubt should plague them they'll gather together.
And congratulate one another on a game so well played.
And I'll listen to words that have ceased to have meaning.
I'll anticipate anecdotes that were told thrice before.
These blind are skilled mimics of something still living,
Their guises become so familiar, they wear masks no more.
And i wonder if i could stop hiding the truth from them,
And create a fresh history and yet believe my own lies.
And could i still become as complacent a mockery?
Can i accept that its time to just put out my eyes?
That which should be discernible may never be clear.
The visionless masses know not what they're lacking
And they cannot miss what they've never held dear.
A sculptor am I who still carves my own image,
The better for all the poor blind men to see.
So they may feel amity with the one stood before them,
With the junque at their side, a sense of camarderie.
Yet i remain the pariah, and know they cant see it.
With eyes tightly closed, they'll remain in the shade.
If doubt should plague them they'll gather together.
And congratulate one another on a game so well played.
And I'll listen to words that have ceased to have meaning.
I'll anticipate anecdotes that were told thrice before.
These blind are skilled mimics of something still living,
Their guises become so familiar, they wear masks no more.
And i wonder if i could stop hiding the truth from them,
And create a fresh history and yet believe my own lies.
And could i still become as complacent a mockery?
Can i accept that its time to just put out my eyes?
posted by Akashla at Friday, December 09, 2005
4 Comments:
Three blind mice,
see how they run.
They all ran after the farmers wife
who cut off their tales with a carving knife ;)
did you ever see such a thing in your life
as three blind mice?
I see your random comment, and raise you a well... Nothing really. Just a random comment in reference to a random comment.
I will let you in on a secret though, I am eating a raspberry muffin right now.
i got that park ranger spam too, oh joy..
Just wanted to let you know ive got the double weave and butterfly down, and can do thingss behind my head on noccasaion too :) cheers!
Spinny goodness.
Cant beat it.
It may beat you though, i have the bruises to prove it.
Check out a the windmill and the corkscrew http://www.homeofpoi.com/lessons/poi_lessons.php/poi/21
and have fun with it...
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