Pixies Are Blind

These ones at least. Many of them, pixies are blind. Perhaps here, maybe even most everywhere. They see nothing, think they absorb it, comprehend it all. Such pixies, unfathomably growing from branches, born to these trees, doesn't mean they bear gorgeous fruits and things. Some poisonous parcel has fallen to the ground. They scatter the green grass here, like hiding vipers, they almost take the area over.

Intelligent and thoughtful you are. One was, one is, one will be, for each abattoir of cruel hearts. You don't know what you take no time to understand. It's a daily shower, in which you stand there and just expect the water to remove the grime and dirt. The actions and contemplation and the stars about the heads. Mostly those who have learnt nothing. Pixie blindness. What would you expect of me, not to be inspired by your tragic, wasted eyes?

You pixies, you put yourselves out there and then complain about it all. You expect things only one way - yours. Like broken city walls you will crumble over time. Eyes, be opened, see, take in and grow. Expand before the very eyes of others. It is potentially so fulfilling, how sad to deny the wealth that awaits. All those who simply open the eyes.