Poetry: Sightless

I have always stumbled

My eyes growing weaker with age

Squinting ahead, looking for the next obstacle

They have seen so many

Have grown so weary, searching far and near

But, as times pass, they continue to serve

Teaching my feet where to tread

Learning when to stumble rather than fall

It has become second nature

Testing the path

Grasping for handholds

Becoming accustomed to feeling the direction

As the light continues to dim

To be suspicious of what sight shows

Listening to what the silence speaks

Though my eyes are dying

Their instruction remains clear

The way forward often must be felt

Rather than seen

Deceived by lies of the evident

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