A Blind Man's PhotographA Poem by Tory Steller To have one see without using their eyes is no easy task. But I believe I could write a blind man a photograph.
A creature no bigger than your palm;
Small… Sticky... Slimy… It hops into frame, speeding in midair, like a gust of wind, and lands with a hair's gentleness on a knee-high blade of Mother Earth's natural strands. It stands, defying gravity, clinging to the side and nearly blending in with nature's lashes as it bends ever so slightly under the weight of the weightless being. All life flowing in the area is vividly displayed, verified under the intense radiance of the powerful star that hovers over humble soil. Everything is real… Everything is solid… Everything is beautiful… As I behold my canvas breathe with its own pulse, the wind pushes fallen petals into the air, rustles the ground, and makes it seem as if the scene is laughing. I shift the view from the foreground, back, behind, beyond a thousand paces where a monstrous tower of solid grit looms over this gorgeous place. Smoldering fumes of toxic plume upward, rises high and blankets everything low. The thick gas acts as a bridge, connecting the contents below to the vastness above. The world stops… The world stills… The world silences… It waits, patiently hushed as something magnificent and ancient groans itself awake. In a fit of grogginess, it slobbers out a gooey string of fiery, liquid heat. A strong force of air remedies the gloomy smog, and for the first time, to the left of the tower, a vast roaring pool becomes visible. Each time the liquid sprays air after slapping against rock, a glint of the starlight is captured inside. Droplets, the size of fingertips are left, but only for a moment, and that moment meets perfection. Breathtaking… Awe-inspiring… Amazing… All in unison the island is revived, vibrantly vibrating, dancing to its own organic, melodic song. The repeating chirps of the fauna all around act as a soundtrack. I let my lids lower and listen to their music. The squawks and squeaks mix in with the ribbits and hisses. I clear my mind, taking it all in until finally the moment is crystallized in my memories. My eyes fly open, my finger twitches over the button. I capture it all. The leaping being and the wilting blade beneath its toes. The dancing petals that the wind puppeteers. The sighing sky with the slobbering behemoth. The gems flying off the growling splashes. All of it, a true definition of harmony. © 2013 Tory StellerAuthor's Note
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Tory StellerHarper Woods, MIAboutMy name is Tory. My dream is to become a famous writer. I love creating new and imaginative stories, poems and other literary works, and debating interesting topics. I'm really friendly, a little weir.. more..Writing
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