Can one blind man guide another.

Can one blind man guide another.
Surely both will fall into a pit.
When young did we not trust our own brother.
I was small but I followed the candle he lit.

We are blind to our own faults.
Yet we know instantly those of others.
We are covered by ego’s towering vaults.
Slow to welcome our own brothers.

My own only brother is dead now.
Sometimes I see him in dreams.
Sixty years ago he was always there somehow.
Early love passed into many streams.

It passes into a great sea’s embrace.
But is never lost, always leaving a trace.

—-+++—-

Love lost time’s streams
Into the sea it passes
But a trace survives

——+++—-

See Luke  6:39-42