What a blind person needs is not a teacher but another self. -- Helen Keller

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Was It Gay or Sorrow

"Happy Birthday to you,"-the trees, the bushes, the shrubs;
The ocean, the sea, the lake; the sky, the clouds, the air-
All sang up in chorus. The river came down running,
The tree bend over me and wave-not a bit proud,
The sky made way for happiness to reach my heart,
The cloud traveled to reach my zenith; all were animated-
The leaves stared at me, the waves tried to rush to me,
The river turned towards me, yes, just to annotate.
A tortoise crawled from a basky heap, the fish jumped
Higher than the waves and mingled in it duly,
A bird flapped its wings to let pass the air, to wish me,
A monkey chattered on a bough-I loved them all truly.
Even the rays tried to pass through the leaves to reach me.
I was measuring every move of every soul, I wasn't an animist before.
I could see the birds flying, fishes swimming, tortoise crawling.
They were many before, then score, but now only four.
Now I really felt their paucity. Even the sun did make way.
The waves did sedate, the leaves though present went to sleep,
Darkness spread over the vast sky, happiness seemed to fade-
All went far away leaving me alone to lament, to weep-
The trees, the bushes, the shrubs then, but now only darkness;
The ocean, the sea, the lake then, but now only darkness;
The sky, the cloud, the air then; but now only darkness;
The fishes, the birds, the tortoise then; but now only darkness.
I could feel a weak current of air on my left, rays on my right.
I took my stick and waded away with the hope of light.

"There is a boundary to men's passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination." - Edmund Burke.

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THE BOUNDARY

What feelings do I have now?
-Choked voice, repentance exploding the face muscles.
-Names explaining some events,
And events defining those names and myself.
Had I not grown, I would not have repented.

Why do I feel them now?
The stone has turned to sand.
I am driven to a threshold,
Between Saturation and normalcy-
The boundary, that emotes to me.
Sincerity would saturate the emotion,
Diplomatic faithfulness, lengthen the process.

I stop at faces;
Ponder about similar levels of saturation.
The faces catalyze my memories
As solutes of the watery flakes, of panorama.
I catch them before they dissolve;
I never caught them when they dissolved.
I can see them clearer and better,
As the flakes sublime before my eyes.
Two films characterize my eyes-
One makes me cry,
And the other is tears.

Neither can the flakes be collected,
Nor can the film be touched.
The solvent is also abstract,
But the solute is real.

I am pulled down by gravity
And I bring down the boundary.
Now I have it at the horizon
Rather behind the sky.