Lo, I too am come

Whilst I sat, poet in hand, a savage shade cast its venom.
“You do not sound to sing,
You do not cast to play,
You do not know to see,
You do not find to wander,
You do not build to labor.
You are blind.”
“I see you,” I said
And I smiled.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “As I ponder’d in silence”)