They saw a blind man plod pass a Path slow and somber !
Prodding his way with his feelers made out of timber !
Blossomed flowers, rains after drought, aroma of powdered cumin and coriander;
As they tease his olfaction, “Witchcraft ! He must be saying to himself” — They thought — while he could only whimper !
“He knows no color, he sees no image! Not a thing beyond the veil of darkness — is he a sinner? Or has he been cursed by a mage?”
Blessed they were they wondered, as they wandered along the Path the blind man trod, until he stopped and mumbled something odd !
“Favored am I, for being blind in both eye !
The stage is dark, I cannot lie, but the blind could not be irked by a wry, nor would I know fear even if peril is nigh !
I harbor no guilt being in slumber nor do I see tears when people cry !
Nakedness does not make me shy !
You who see, sin with your eye — lust, envy, pride to your soul you tie !”
