The Man, The Orphan, The Die Hard Lady

The man was stripped of sight since he was born,
groping around his way in perpetual darkness as a kid,
shielding his dilapidated eye with thick wipers of charcoal black,
he rapidly learnt the art of deciphering protuberant Braille,
acquired a kingly accolade in contemporary art; being divested precious ingredients of vision indispensable to execute it.

the orphan was deprived of the ability to disentangle sound,
an aftermath of which he was oblivious to coherent speech,
there was however no massacring his zeal for life,
he decoded words through subtle movements of lips,
was a dedicated pioneer in onerous freedom struggle of his country,
refrained from portraying to the world; that he was deaf as a silent stone.

the lady in the slum possessed twin pairs of crippled feet,
bearing the brunt of irascible car wheels crushing her bones,
she now walked with tapered calipers of cheap cane,
although she had a heart embodied with philanthropic visions,
lending a helping hand to people suffering in miserable plight.

i wandered about jobless for several days,
bestowed upon with all tangible aspects of life,
punching the ground hard in inexplicable frustration looming large,
i then witnessed the lives of the abovementioned; utterly distraught yet ready to smile,
it was that very day that i felt lucky; and sumptuously blessed,
urged myself to laugh when i felt like sobbing; reminiscing memories of the man, the orphan, and the die hard lady.

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