Blind Sound

The sound was defining

To the blind man standing

Among others so blind

That they could not see

Or hear.

In the wanton rush

Toward the end

A life is crushed

No thought or care

Is made to amend.

In a dire mashing

In the mire thrashing

In the cold midst of

Grabbing and taking,

Lives are lost.

Your life is lost.
You paid no cost

You took all to the grave

All you could gather

To a hole in the ground.

And there, apart and alone

In restful repose you

Laid down with your stuff

And it comforted you not

Not while living or dying.

Jim Hime c2013