I like being blind - to eyes. They say difficult things. They react ordinarily but there are a so many ways to reach the senses, and I always pick a wrong one. So better let go of them, their light, their interest. Assuming no one can see me is a delight, pure heart delight. I am still in practice of this virtual aspiration but I see some positive blood. So why not?
When the souls passing across are running my exclusion, who am I to overpower the truth? And all the more who cares? Besides I love desolated wolves.
Blue sands, white air, scintillating dots, this is my world, unknown somewhere in the corner of a blinding joy. Yeah, I am exhilarated, being away from the cheating vision. It’s like I am wearing a cloak which hides me from this poisonous valley of acid rain.
It dawned upon me the other day if I am looking for an escape. It’s an awful thought for me, specially for me. Running away, concealing- am I? Does this way, things are falling apart, more than I wanted them to be?
Soon, there’s a shrewd smile on my fair face. It adorns my features. And finally I laugh, hard, so hard that the blindness is laughing with me. I enjoy the motion. I like every part of it.
The whole point of living blind is to let go.
So if you want to love me, then darlin' don't refrain!