From their dungeon of truth he
sits shackled,
Buying into the reality of the
chains that bind him.
From his perspective he only sees
The rays of Light projecting from
the opening high above.
Afraid to see that which lies out
there,
For fear of a better life
In a peaceful world.
But in his world there is peace,
No one comes to heckle him in
their dungeon of truth.
He sits quietly,
Pensively remembering life before
his imprisonment.
At the time there were no options,
As it was told to him by the blind
man.
Nowhere could he find safety in a
threatening world.
Everyone an enemy,
Even those that had befriended
him.
As he remembered back to his days
in The Light,
He felt numbness.
Forgetting not only the bad,
But the good.
Fearing to feel,
For fear of the return of Pain and
Memories.
Questioning the prudence of his
decision,
He looks up toward The Light.
As the days pass,
He remembers the jury that
sentenced him...
To life in darkness,
The twelve hooded ones.
Never looking him in the eye,
For they could not see.
He, afraid to look in theirs,
For fear of seeing the death of
their soul,
Never believing in his vision
Of a world
Of truth
And peace.
Scoffing and jeering at the boy
with a dream,
The boy who could see...
Believing was too much to ask in
their world
Of Blindness,
Ignorance,
And Bigotry.
Day after day he wondered
If it was better in there.
Safe from the jeers,
But kept from The Light only he
could see.
Wishing harder and harder to be
free of his chains,
He pulls at the shackles,
Only to hear the surreal din of
the links that bind him.
Wishing harder and harder,
He grows discontent.
Everyday pulling one more time,
Only to hear that familiar ring.
Wanting to be free,
He screams for help,
He cries for his freedom,
But no one comes.
For a time he gives up.
Hope is lost and his Memories
fade.
He turns away from The Light
Since it offers only a sense of
Defeat
And the Fear that he plead guilty
too quickly,
Selling out his own belief in
himself,
His belief that he could see.
But he was so young,
And had no one to guide him,
But the one-eyed man
In the world of the blind.
When he had two.
He could see better than the rest,
But chose not to trust his vision.
He questioned his Judgment,
Letting himself be judged
By those who could not see
.Imprisoning himself in their world
of darkness,
He is bound by their reality.
Regretting his decision more and
more,
He reexamines the trial in his
mind.
Reliving each detail,
Over and over...
Resentencing himself,
Again and again...
To life in darkness,
Life in solitude.
But Solitude has its graces,
For were it not for his time in
the dark,
He would not have recognized the
strength in The Light.
Resolving to regain his freedom,
He returns to face The Light.
He demands to be heard,
Screaming louder and louder,
He demands to be heard!
At last, someone comes to the
door.
He requests the opportunity to
prove his innocence,
Not their ignorance.
For he is older and wiser
And realizes not to intimidate,
Through fear of what they cannot
see,
But to acknowledge
What they can hear
And feel
And smell
And taste.
It is through the other senses
That the blind may see,
If they are willing to look.
Realizing the opportunity he has
been given,
One that so many never get,
He seizes the formidable task
ahead of him
With determination and fortitude.
As he returns to the trial room,
A chill runs down his neck, and he
is painfully reminded
of the echoes of jeers and howls.
The gallery is full of those who
came to hear
The man
Who thinks
He can see.
Since in a world of the blind,
What is sight?
He acknowledges their existence
and his Fear
To himself
And receives strength from it.
He represents himself,
With the one-eyed man
Sitting close behind.
He faces the jury,
Their visages so familiar,
Lacking compassion,
Yet lacking judgement.
They seem ready to hear.
As if to shake his confidence,
A familiar voice whispers from the
gallery,
That same voice that stole his
pride
So long ago.
He turns to face him
And with a look of acknowledgment
that the man could not see,
He sensed something taken away.
It was not his to hold
Or to keep.
His adversary fell silent,
Respecting the strength,
And for a moment,
He thought,
He saw...
His pride returned,
He felt stronger,
And then he saw them.
Even with the eyes he had,
He had never seen them before
Smiling upon him,
Believing in his sight,
They could see him.
Urging him on they sat silently,
And the blind could not hear them.
The prosecution,
A representative of their science
of truth,
Spoke of blasphemy and magic,
Of what he claimed the defendant
saw...
"What is sight?" he
stated.
"If we were meant to see,
Wouldn’t we have eyes?"
"But they did," the man
thought.
As he saw them so plainly on their
faces,
"They just never opened
them."
The prosecution continued with
tales of lore,
Mocking sarcastically
At the stories that children
believe,
And the lack of evidence
And the man sat and listened,
His hands crossed in his lap.
As he listened more intently,
His vision began to blur.
Once again,
He doubted his sight,
And his silent supporters began to
fade
As Fear began to return.
Reaching deep down inside his
existence,
He trusted his faith,
Realizing that in trusting
himself,
He took the chance to lose it all,
Only to be sentenced to a life of
sight
In the dungeon of the blind.
He returned his focus to the
prosecution
As they rested their case,
And court was adjourned.
Held in his dungeon,
He thought through his case,
As he had for so many years.
So painful it was
To relive the experience of
sitting in solitude.
Seeing the window above,
The Light still shone through.
Kept from The Light,
He longed for his freedom…
And he slept.
Awoken by the clamor of his
jailers
He readied himself,
While they jeered at him from
outside his cell.
Striving hard to shake his
confidence,
He saw their ploys,
And it gave him strength.
He returned to his seat
To face the judge and jury,
Who sat skeptically and
defensively.
And he spoke.
He spoke of science
And the advances of technology
And how it served them well.
He spoke of the pride they should
have
In their accomplishments
And the strength of their armies.
And they listened intently,
Their skepticism lost in their
arrogance.
He Spoke of the sounds of children
And the smell of Spring,
And the feel of the wind on their
face.
He praised the their sightless
world
And saw them smile.
For he was a friend to them,
And they felt it.
He knew if he could love those
That tried to enslave him,
He would always be free,
Even if they imprisoned him.
But he also knew that he had to
help them see,
And knew that to open their eyes
too quickly to The Light
Would scare them
And cause them pain,
Doubting their existence,
Blaming him for their doubt.
For as he spoke,
He saw more clearly,
That he must bring The Light to
them
When they were ready,
And the evolution was taking place
Before his eyes.
And he spoke of sight and
questioned its existence,
"Wouldn’t it be
wonderful to see the sun set,
To see the child you were holding
To see the leaves fall to the
ground
And not just hear them rustle in
the wind?
Is it so bad to want this for
myself
And for you?
But Science has spoken, or has
it?"
"We once thought that the
earth was flat,
That the Gods could strike us down
at will.
To think that we can hear sounds
through a box
Sent from a hundred miles away,
That there are other planets
And other galaxies.
Science had spoken long ago,
And said it was not
possible."
"I ask you to feel the heat
of the sun on your face
More intently,
To listen more carefully
To the falling leaves,
To pull your child closer to
yourself
And feel their touch.
For they may have eyes
Just like you,
And they may be able to see,
As you once may have been able to.
Remember long ago and see...
What is there.
And if I am blind
Then let me see for myself.
Do not call me a fool for
dreaming.
It is the Pioneers of Science
Who were once called Fools,
And some professed sight,
But were blinded by the
Skeptics."
"I ask you to look deep
inside yourself and challenge
What you hear,
And feel,
And smell,
And taste.
And I ask you not to judge me,
Not to believe me,
Just to hear me and trust that
We all can see...
If we believe in our self."
And for a moment,
A glimmer of Light
Shone in their eyes...
And the one-eyed man
Smiled...
April, 1995