The Blind Man
Look, his progress interrupts the scene
absent from his dark perambulation,
like a dark crack's interpretation
of a bright cup. And, as on a screen,

all reflections things around are making
get depicted on him outwardly.
Just his feeling stirs, as if intaking
little waves of world invisibly:

here a stillness, there a counter - stand,
as if pondering whom to choose,
he'll tarry:
then surrenderingly, he'll lift his hand,
almost ritually, as if to marry.
:^Globi