Member Poem

Blind men balk at the dawn,

Squinting eyes as they fall before the morning light’s onslaught.
Gold crawls across their faces spreading a warmth that would send the twilight chill westward,
A rhythm for the chirping of the birds that would spew shrill madness.

Everyday I would watch the Sun rise,
And though I cannot see him, still I would be struck,
By his naked beauty,
Blinding fire that would cleanse the Earth and seat itself into my sight,
So I would remain

Blind man,
Numb soul shivering in the cage of my chest,
Out of mindless habit,
Beating blood until she would stop,
Dead and shriveled, a lonely thing,
Carrion remains of an age when men could see themselves,
Golden in the roaring sun,
Shadowed under his eye,
Aware of the chest that housed a beating heart.