Obedience
The wanderer carved circuitous routes through a vast, post-apocalypse wasteland,
bandages bloodied and scabrous over his once keen seeing eyes.
Proudly stiff and smartly dressed, he painted a pathetic picture,
as he struggled to advance another day’s journey, at least, before he died.
Most of the blinded had had to trust a guide to lead them to purpose.
The wanderer scoffed as he thought of their trust and the ease with which they’d obeyed.
But the truth is a man who follows himself, has a fool for lord and a master,
and outsmarted by reason both broken and hampered, this man had sadly been played.
(Poetry Scales 124)
bandages bloodied and scabrous over his once keen seeing eyes.
Proudly stiff and smartly dressed, he painted a pathetic picture,
as he struggled to advance another day’s journey, at least, before he died.
Most of the blinded had had to trust a guide to lead them to purpose.
The wanderer scoffed as he thought of their trust and the ease with which they’d obeyed.
But the truth is a man who follows himself, has a fool for lord and a master,
and outsmarted by reason both broken and hampered, this man had sadly been played.
(Poetry Scales 124)
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