complete with wooden pole,
attached to a medal fixture at the bottom to announce his arrival.
He waves his cane to and frough in the air,
looking for what he can not see.
He tapes the stick upon the ground.
He is in such a foreign place,
now searching for what he can not find.
he wanders a few feet to the north,
seeing clearly that this may not be the correct direction.
East feels better, he strengthens his stride in that direction.
His staff hits pavement, then stone, then gravel
which soon turns to ash.
South then, or west perhaps he thinks silently...
or southwest, but first he must find where he began from.
Aimlessly he wanders,
eagerly searching for something he will never lay eyes upon.
But look! who are all those people following his every move?
A sea of men and women who can all see on their own, but they are all silent,
They do not turn in any direction other then this blind man with an elegant title!
Who is he?
Then i noticed the black thick book in his hand that seems sacred yet unread.
Then catharsis sets in, and the enigma fades,
and i realize this man must be a Pastor.