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Blinded by the Light

This ardent man

locked inside his fading day,

this curious quizzical character


Who wouldn’t know the difference

between a sunbeam and a snowflake—

squinting at some scattered grain of comprehension

like a hungry fledgling, or nibbling

rabbit-like at yesterday’s remaining recollections


This adolescent suddenly grown up into

tomorrow, checking his cracked mirror

once again in disbelief. This unshaven

creature, blinking as he gropes for his bifocals


This unbeliever, still stubbornly refusing to

put his money on the red, the black

or, heaven forbid, a superstitious number


This absent minded traveler, struggling to

maintain his foothold as the raucous

thrusting, multi-colored crowd of blind

humanity rushes by — always lonely

even in the noisiest shoulder-to-shoulder

commute of peering prying eyes


This funny, white-haired man who after

three quarters of a century searching for

some straws of meaning in a haystack

of confusion; mouthing once again

his mantra life’s a joke, let’s have a laugh


This funny, curious, still bewildered man

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© Johnmichael Simon



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