The Blind Man Dancing
May smooth curves of your lips be the pillow
On that my soul can rest in peace
Warmed by your breath, the only thing to lean on
When our human days run out of sun
In streets of town now emptied by cold drizzle
I saw there dancing a blind man
Who compared creator to narrator
And turned my longings into snowflakes
Sitting themselves down on shoulders of us both
Now closer to each other than ever, forever apart
Like dreams those came true long ago
Still haunting what is left of us after they left
Maybe he's right that love is born of decay
For sometimes it is nothing more
And still we keep it in our inner pockets
As "nothing more" is more than nothing; well, is it?
He said that he was frightened of my beauty
And he's the only one whose words are true
For what his orbs didn't see they cannot forget
He smiled and vanished in the wind which now I am dancing in
The character of the Blind Man intrigues me to no end! My one criticism: the final line could use a little work. "Which now I am dancing in" has the right tone, but the wording falters a bit.
This is lovely. I love the metaphor and the muse.
The blind man in that respect was a cool, juxtaposed metaphor.
This is pretty hardcore, describing one of those pure moments of inspiration and profound illumination.
I felt like that when writing this poem, I'm happy I could convey the emotion
This is absolutely gorgeous and made my heart ache in all the right ways. Wow.
Wow! You are an extraordinary writer!
This is beautiful, I would critique it, but my shallow words would only feel wrong. I must say, I have been rendered without thought for improvement.