FACING BLACK AND DARK

Facing black   and dark,

Without the tiniest spark,

Without  not  even  fluid  light  of  dim  stars  or  fire  flies,

Throttled with   endless muffled cries.

The shock and surprise benumbs me,

Yet does not anaesthetized,

A razor - sharp moan tears through me,

My close one’s tell me to be accepting and wise!

Having myself written poems on blindness,

Opening of inner eyes,

Learning from the greats, who lost their eyes,

I  can’t  have  even  self  pity  and its  comforting  kindness.

But how long I will keep mourning?

Day, night and morning,

Have to accept the worst, if I have to,

Hitting the bottom may reveal a new opening.

Black may be beautiful,

Closed eyes mean sleep and meditation,

Even to die, be unconscious, in coma and hibernation,

Can give rest, new life, energetic, even soulful.

Mind   is sixth sense,

Stocked with data, digital and imagic,

Can reproduce, create unparallel magic,

A feast of kaleidoscopic sense.

But I have to wait and be a patient witness,

Of my seem less suffering,

The agony of helpless struggling.

To see the light at the end of the tunnel, an ineffable brightness!

To open my inner eye,

I have to have “on-job training”,

To loose my persona and identity, my 'I',

To watch an inner incandescent flowering.