Blind Eyes
The land is cold, and grey, and dark,
The grip of winter hard upon it.
Grey clouds mask a once blue sky,
Hiding the sun from every eye;
And with the sun, its light and warmth,
Till there is nothing but this cold and darkness.
Liars, I call them who extoll the beauty of this season,
But alas, it also stands to reason that my eyes are blind to see,
And my heart; frozen so that it does not feel.
No, I can not see the grander of these winter days.
All that passes before my vision are memories of the colors that have faded away;
But it is never good for one to compare one type of beauty to another,
For then we dismiss and discount all that is different and unique for whatever it is that we seek.
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