mountains peek from clouds. moments before they'd hid well; i can't help but think about all those times, flying through clouds, blindly
Line of Blindness [Tanka]
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I
rustling leaves,
i hear only chaos;
the blind man hears
a single leaf fall,
hitting others as it drops
II
the sunshine
glows on my eyelids,
warms my face;
i see movement in
shifting dark blotches
III
the city noise,
so chaotic when looking,
becomes ordered
when I close my eyes
and sit with the sound