Going Blind Poem by James McLain

There is no shortage of darkness here, either
one can see it or one doesn't.
One can feel the sun, the heat alone is misleading.
In this darkness where there is light, my fingers cling to the moon,
warm some where else, I am told in the center, a great black hole.

Star's beyond normal sight with out the help of a telescope
lay upon glass, thinly blaze with white frost.
As it is now drawn from the past, the future revealed to
the blind few, whom cut from the cloth that they feel.
Here there are no guns, through the telescope's great length
end to end, can be longer than my out stretched arm's.

Sight by the young is taken for granted, where as I mumble
the star spangled banner.
I could if I tried, climb up to out yonder to wonder if they
are all honest.

With nothing to gain, I have ventured to loose all that I
valued today.
Being touched in my brain,
before it shuts down endless the day's, thoughtful the night's
as the star's flicker on then go out.