Benio is blinded,
But how he can see,
From the red of the sunset,
To green of the tree.
And Benio is blinded,
But lacks not a sight,
For his mind paints the day,
And draws shadows at night.
For Benio is blinded,
But nothing he'd miss,
From the hand of his lover,
To warmth of their kiss.
See his kind is enlightened,
As any should be,
For Benio's not blinded,
But blinded are we.
End
P