abstract beauty

with slits for eyes he peers inside
those dusty corners in his mind
until he sees with certainty
the depths of his humanity
now laying there disheveled on the floor

remembrances of hoops and hurdles
leave sour tastes, like milk that curdles
and though he doesn't know it yet
this is a day he'll not forget
for it will be unlike those gone before

in brilliant beacons light explodes
that leads upon Damascus road
to light the path and guide the feet
until the day when souls shall meet
and we shall greet the one whom we adore

for those with eyes now blind to see
such treasures "their's" shall never be