He raced toward the end of his life,
as though his life depended on it.
He hurried towards his goal,
Blinders fixed,
Huffing and puffing.
What did he seek?
Was he afraid of what lay behind?
Did he long for what lay ahead?
As he traveled the road,
He realized that he could not see
the roses or the other flowers
along the way.
Their blurred outlines
gave suggestions
of beauty,
But he had always
seen them
on the periphery
of his voyage.
Then,
unexpectedly,
she appeared before him.
No matter how he tried to escape,
she stayed with him,
Tugging,
Pulling,
Cautioning him
against his frenzied course.
Stop and see,
she said.
Wait for me,
she said.
I will be here
if you stay with me.
He had never felt such power
in one so gentle,
and he responded in kind.
His inclination
to speed ahead
was tempered by her gentle, loving voice.
He stopped to listen.
Just as suddenly,
the roses and the flowers
came into focus,
and the beauty of the world
became apparent.
His breathing slowed,
and,
as he turned,
She looked at him
and smiled.
He was blind.
Now, he could see.
