Lost, Scarred, his lips sewn,
Walking through a forest with ghosts of thorn,
The man without a face passes me by,
“Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
At his feet, a thousand saints die,
And he walks on, looking for the light.
The sweet temptress of the dark, whispers
In his ear, a song of lust, a promise of the truth,
As he loses himself in the fleeting moments of passion, few
Her children devour his soul.
And even as her touch soothes his wounds, sore
He leaves with his shadow paler than before.
Paler he gets, the ghosts of thorn coming alive with his blood,
The desolate woods, no longer her whispers flood
For a million years he falls, never finding his light.
As lays his unmoving corpse, tree folk walk by
Whispering, “Tis the man who had no eyes.
It’s the man who had no eyes.”
This poem is about the toxic stigma that we as humans have developed around ourselves in our daily lives, and how just because of conditioning and programming of our mind, happiness seems to be a distant place to reach. Whereas infact, true happiness must come from within. This is the feeling I try to explore within this poem. The protagonist goes on looking for the light while slowly the spark within him fades away. He finds happiness in momentary comforts (which is a metaphor for materialistic gains) but is never really happy. All his life he is looking for the light i.e happiness, and when he dies, we come to know that he had no eyes to look.
