tick,
ticktack, ticktock
a cloudy sound persists
around
looming lonely in the lightless park
waiting, wandering, or hesitating
so many of us have
ceased
groping our ways out of dark
(hey, no more path appears
ahead)
someone kindly reminds
the blind man
(thanks, but your warning is really off
the mark)
tick, ticktack, ticktock
his seeing rod rhyming
with the unseen clock
as a fresh path follows hehind his footsteps
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