In elegant baroque galleries A spirited poltergeist unfurls It’s wicked paraphernalia A swish of frigid whispers Swirl around ornate turrets Murals touched with darkness Glitter in the truant shadows From precarious chandeliers Swings a nuanced laughter Smirking at the ways of men The colonnades they walked in pride Now playground for the dead and wild
It was more purple than green An ugly gash refusing to heal Salve nor balm, rest nor restrain Strong enough to erase the pain A bruise so blue, a crimson tear Sweet hurt with trembling fear Yet, I tend to these injuries deep Purge the venom, not let it seep Into crevices of my soul so grim Discard memories like dead skin
Musing under the moonlight Streaming through glass doors I wonder if the Moon beings, too Meditate on our blue-green orb Does it work for them and how As we spin on the axis of flaws? Distant flashes alluring, magical Seeking, finding solace in ignorance Across obscure transcendence Such is the destiny of all born
These lines were specially written for the prompt #blindman by #moonmystic. With all our vision we are unable to discern truth from falsehood, genuine people from the fake ones.
What the blind man sees Is more intricate than Any emotion deep Or touch we feel Without true sight With power infinite Sensing silent tremors Buried in murky souls Hearing gentle murmurs When tender hearts spoke With all our vision We know neither fair nor evil For all we know is a countenance Feigning affection or Shielding the devil