A poem on a blind man, and his literal blindness compared to our metaphorical blindness.
The existence of one, often justifies another. Often, not always.
Writers are believed because they know the importance of words. Which is why they paint the rosiest picture out of the darkest ones, and vice versa.
Every now and then, a fire lights up and you succumb to it. You kiss and giggle and moan, and so much more, every now and then.
Roller-coasters and unopened books, what a world this has become.