Blindfold me.

When I go searching, I am not sure what I want to see.
Am I looking for radiant beams to break through the dark condensations?
Or am I looking for the relief of thunderous rain?

Did I want the sun to rise, so that I could open my long closed eyes-
or did I want the palms of twilight, to protect them from the blinding light?

As the unyielding rocks, withstood the onslaught of the frothy sea,
I asked- did I want to be the rock, doomed to survive the deluge for eternity?
Or would I rather be the sea- causing wreckage to the rocks around me?

As I steer my ship towards the North,
I hear the South beckoning me
I know not where the winds will take me.

I turn a shade of auburn, as the summer comes to an end,
frail and withering, I do not see the beauty around me.

As I fall to the ground, I wonder if I am happy for the green ones that replace me.

In the night, as everything comes to a standstill
I look up to the sky, and wonder,
Do the stars burn bright, despite the melancholy of the sky?
Or is it the sky’s despair, that is so all consuming, it is only broken by moments of joy?

As I scan over my surroundings, things jump out at me-
the Summer is as hot, as the Winter is cold.
White is more jarring than black
and the sky is beautiful even when it is not clear.

When I go searching, I know what I see,
I just wish I saw differently.