By Shawn Marc B. Carreon
Is it because one is blind?
The world still revolves, but still it grinds.
Bountiful joys bloom in
summers season,
Such beauty not to be seen, nature is the reason.
As you stand in the rain, you’d expect a symphony,
You’d want it back, wanting it to be sunny.
Life and death each tell their own tale,
Like bread left open,
it turns stale.
Swimming upon depths so deep,
Wanting to jump and taking the leap.
Illusionary expectations, it stays in the mind,
Lost between reality, yourself
you’ll find.
