Someone asked me, do I know the meaning of every poem I write? This is my answer. |
-The Blinding Man- by Keaton Foster In his hand The blinding man A god unto himself A pagan to everyone else He allows them to see Not with their eyes But rather With their minds His wisdom His perspective So inclined His pen This page Methods to be used Weapons to be wielded Mercy A foregone conclusion Hatred and love Sorrow and happiness All emotions of his craft A master if there ever was one Cleverly skilled in the mundane Wicked and wise within the confines Of complicated lies and brutal truths Those who dare read Stand no reasonable chance They will become impregnated With his wild ideas They will labor for months Toiling over what he meant Fighting to understand Until of course they give birth To all that he has inspired A cyclical event for the ages Time and again He won’t fail them To him fostering another’s idea And making it your own Is not considered plagiarism But rather respectful adaptation Be assured that he won’t mind Because he knows that words Do not belong to him The blinding man Is above owning anything If you asked him he’d say I need absolutely nothing And I want even less His heart His soul His mind Belongs to one ideal One truth for all time An absolute that he Above all others will achieve He wants his life The one he fights so hard at living To without question mean something Thus Via his crafted words he knows That meaning can be found For himself and all others The blinding man Won’t ever give up His writings are his meaning Even if what he means is not as clear For some as it needs to be… The Blinding Man Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |