Thief Of Light And Sight Poem by David Whalen

<center>
It's a thief…shaped from shadows
Of whose presence cannot be known
And who will stoop so low
As to steal e'en the candle's glow
And is silent as …the sound of stone
Little by little…bit by bit
Always taking, degree by degree
Til little will I have left of it
Precious little sight …
Left to me

It's the iceberg in the night
It's the train one does not see coming
It's closely akin to the quiet flow
Of water slipping silently and slow
Down the drain…
This thievery of my sight

I am powerless to halt
Or even slow this cunning thief
E'en tho' he lives within me
And I know it's not truly
No… not truly his fault
This thing that he's doing
To me.

There is no cure
Of that I'm sure
For this fate of mine
So insidious
But the simple fact
Is that I will indeed go blind
And at this point in time
Seems quite hideous

Perhaps he'll do
His job with haste
Perhaps the thief will work
Very slowly…
But for now I'll try to see
The world more closely
For it's likely I'll not
…have time to waste…

I'll see the Sunrises
With more respect
For their beauty that…
I always took as a given
See the dusks in a whole new light
And I expect That I'll keep on livin'

Perhaps I'll leave this earthly realm
Whilst I can still see about me
And take a final glimpse
And take a final smile
At the beautiful world
…I leave behind me…

<center>





</center>