LIFE IS NOT EASY FOR THE BLIND - by Muhammad Mercurial

Every morning is a negotiation with the unknown. The sun may rise,but not for them. The road may be open,yet every step must first ask permissionfrom a white cane. A staircase becomes a mountain. A puddle,an ocean. A misplaced stonecan rewrite an entire day. Still... They walk. Not because the road is kind, but because standing stillhas never taken anyone home. I once watched a blind man smile at the wind. His face carried no argument with fate. His fingers danced across walls,reading directions hidden in concrete. His ears welcomed footstepslong before the earth confessed them. His cane kissed the ground,and the ground replied. For a moment, I wondered... Who was really leading whom? Life is not easy for the blind. Then I met another kind. A man whose eyes swallowed colours, yet never noticed his mother's silent tears. A woman who admired every mirror, yet could not recognize her own worth. A preacher who quoted heaven, yet walked past hellwearing a human face. A wealthy manwhose garage knew the names of luxury, but whose dining tablehad forgotten the taste of gratitude. A scholarwho memorized libraries, yet remained illiteratein the language of compassion. Tell me... How do you explaina man who sees everything, except the truth? How do you describesomeone who can count the stars, but cannot count their blessings? How do you comfortthe traveller who keeps blaming darkness, while carrying an unlit lamp? Perhaps... Blindness is not imprisonedinside the eyes. Perhaps it escapes through the heart. Perhaps blindnessis seeing opportunitiesand calling them problems. Perhaps it is hearing wisdomand choosing noise. Perhaps it is meeting love and shaking hands with pride instead. Life is not easy for the blind. Not for the childsearching for a mother's voice. Not for the old womancounting each step back home. Not for the dreamerwho buried his giftbecause fear spoke louder than faith. Not for the leadertoo proud to ask for directions. Not for the soulthat has spent yearslooking at God, without ever seeing Him. The blind mantouches walls because he knowshe cannot trust his eyes. The seeing mantouches nothing, because he trusts his eyes too much. One walks carefully. The other falls confidently. Now tell me... Which oneis truly blind? Perhaps the greatest tragedy is not living without sight. Perhaps it is living with sight, yet dying without vision. So before you pitythe man carrying a white cane, Stand before the mirror. Look deeper than your reflection. Ask your ambitionwhere it is taking you. Ask your angerwhat it has built. Ask your pridewhat it has healed. Ask your heartwhat it still refuses to see. Because life... Life... Life is not easy for the blind. Especially those whose eyes are open... but whose souls have forgotten how to see.

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