The Blindness

I stand in a valley surrounded
By hills and trees mounted
The sun shines on the opposite hemisphere
And the moon can be seen nowhere

In an ocean of dark
I see things pointed like a shark
The rustling leaves make a sound so shrill
My spine shivers with the stormy wind’s chill

The pupil is maximized but still
Unable to get the light to fill
Black shapes appear on canvas black
A cricket chirps and animates the pack

Slowly the dawn breaks and
The black canvas gets a red band
The black sharks now lush green
The misty mountains so serene

The fear of unknown scared
Of knowledge making it impaired
The cool winds kiss the ears and whisper
The blindness, not the scene, is the one to whimper