“In the fury of the moment…”
Dateline: On A Country Road
I had a friend, and he was blind, and he built kites.
And the kites,
My friend told me, he could feel,
Blue, he said, felt better than, Red. And in his hands as he spoke, was a kite of blue.
My friend, who built kites, and was blind, believed in miracles.
Not in the miracle of new found sight but in the miracle,
Of blues, of reds, of greens and yellows.
“We would be fine living in a black and white world,” he would tell me, “but instead it is a world of color; take time to see the color, take time to feel the color, color is a miracle, color is the message to us that… Special is possible, that Special is real, that Special…happens.”
I had a friend, who was blind, and who built colorful kites,
and he passed away peacefully in his sleep,
and later came a box from my friend, and the box said simply, “For Bones,” my nickname as a teenager, and in the box, no note, only a kite,
and the kite was white,
and there was a ball of string,
and underneath the ball of string,
a box of crayons.
Special happens, my friends.
“…I can see…”