I am not drawn by the sight
But the rustle and roar of it
As if it is chained and pained.
Or it is just how it talks when
It meets the plain?
With the music in my ear,
I walk along to behold the yet unseen,
I feel like someone who doesn't see light
Sound is his world
And an epiphany dawns upon me that
We are all born blind
And how pally we were
Before light saw us
When quite impossibly
Sound and light were same.