| He stepped forward with certainty
|
| And then secured his blindfold tightly
|
| He saw nothing of this world
|
| Free of his own reflection
|
| He heard their voices faintly
|
| So much softer than his own
|
| He sensed their touch rest upon him
|
| But only felt, only felt of stone
|
| His thoughts became an infinite flow
|
| The truths of which he spoke with absolute conviction
|
| And took solace in knowing their words
|
| Were simply competing frequencies
|
| The fate of one who only sees
|
| Truth in his own words
|
| Is the furthest thing from free
|
| A prisoner to an elite
|
| No one will ever know
|
| A castaway lost at sea
|
| He found his voice ringing wall to wall
|
| Answer his thoughts, standing on his own
|
| He learned nothing of this world free of his own reason
|
| He paid no views attention
|
| That he did not find to his liking
|
| The fate of one who only sees
|
| Truth in his own words
|
| Is the furthest thing from free
|
| A prisoner to an elite
|
| No one will ever know
|
| A castaway lost at sea |