The blind man spoke to me,
As if in a day dream at night.
Walked with him and talked
The walk with acute placement.
Telling me that learning to fall
Is a choice in how, if you must.
And it happens in the darkest
Sense of the missing steps.

Grabbing nothing but the more fear,
And if you didn’t sense soon enough,
It was your pre-reaction, the perceived
Notion that you should have known.
Finding then that those are terse
Kind of mistakes, and pragmatic
In the recesses of your mind,
Recurring at times of doubting.

©2007, Ron Globe