Blind Man

A man sits quietly
In shadows of thought.
He wonders quietly
In shadows of thought.

What he thinks is his own.
What others think, he has grown.
Shadows dart through his head.
Old romances never dead,
New romances drowned out instead.
He will not let any light shine.
He must think in his shadow.
He will wait biding his time,
Till one day he opens leaden eyes
To a light far too long neglected
And sees truth as it is;
That all has gone and left him.