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. It
would be good to eavesdrop - something to pass the time in
what the surgeons insist on calling THIS HOUSE OF
PEACE AND HEALING. But it is the land now that is
peaceful and healed, the hospital haunted with battle and
pain and uneven memory.
Because that story you have heard about the blind is only
true in part, that when sight goes, the other senses ...
sharpen? Intensify? Bayard, if this world were all poetry
and justice and balance, and beauty no accident - if things
took place because they were more beautiful or poetic or
just - then the myths regarding the blind would be physical
law: what war hath taken away, nature restoreth, or a
similar poetry. But it is not like that. What you do in the
blackness is pay more attention, and if cardinals and finches
and larks all sound the same to you, it reminds you only that
long ago there were some things you neglected.
But you cannot blame yourself for the oversights of
childhood and of study, because any tale that is entirely and
unarguably true, whether of blindness or of birds or of
battle, or of something purely noble in any of these things,
is the wildest tale of all, for none of these are purely
understood until we sink into darkness, until we rise on thin
and delicate wings, or until we carry a lance while the fire
descends
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