Roland E.T Mhasvi The Flowers of Yesterday. An Anthology of Poems

Sorrow

In the encircling darkness, my heart sank
As though it walked
The procession of a thousand blind men groping the dark
With flaming torches in their hands, and i knew,
In the gloom of my world-weary heart,
When the sun came up on the morrow
Over the grim iron grey of the East,
That bide of blind-visioned cats
Prowling the paths of the promised plains,
Would yet cling to their blood-flaming torches
To light some others the way to dusty sorrow
In some rotting blind spot of their darkened brains.