Member Poem

In the theater of shadows, where silence speaks,
A blind man dreams, where his heart seeks.
No palette of rainbows, no colors arrayed,
Yet in senses profound, his world is laid.

The sun, a warm whisper on his face,
Not a golden orb, but an embrace.
Moonlight bathes in a soothing stream,
A cool touch, an ethereal dream.

Children's laughter, a melody in the air,
Vibrant hues of joy, beyond compare.
Nature's canvas, a tactile embrace,
Leaves rustling softly, a dance in grace.

In the theater of his mind, images unfold,
Textures and sounds, a story to be told.
The sun, a burst of warmth and hue,
Painting the sky in a crimson debut.

Seasons dance, a tactile ballet,
Spring's rebirth, winter's cold ballet.
His universe shaped by touch and scent,
A sensory tapestry, profound and bent.

Laughter erupts, a symphony of glee,
Not a visual spectacle, but wild and free.
Tears, a language of the heart's lament,
Expressed in sighs, a tender descent.

Stars above, like diamonds in the night,
He feels their brilliance, an ethereal light.
Galaxies twirl, a cosmic ballet,
In his fingertips, the universe at play.

Mountains stand proud, a rugged terrain,
In his hands, their majesty he'll gain.
Rivers that flow, a melody so sweet,
He hears their journey, in rhythm, they meet.

Faces unseen, yet he knows each smile,
Through the language of touch, mile by mile.
Cities alive, with a pulsating beat,
In vibrations, their stories complete.

Technology hums, a modern-day hymn,
Through buttons and braille, his world to skim.
A blind man's journey, a courageous flight,
In the boundless realms of sound and light.

Through the tapestry of tactile sensation,
He paints his vision, a unique foundation.
His dreams take flight on imagination's wing,
A blind man, in a world where senses sing.

So, in the theater of shadows, where silence speaks,
A blind man dreams, where his heart seeks.
His universe, a symphony of touch and sound,
In the poetry of senses, his dreams are bound.

In the contemplation of the cosmic vast,
No need for sight, his thoughts steadfast.
A blind man's vision, a sensory ballet,
In the poetry of senses, he finds his way.
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