The Sight of the Blind

I am frozen in this midst.   This being the everlasting need to get rid of the uselessness.
As the catastrophic fantasies that we make up for ourselves consume our thoughts, and
I suffering through my own am useless in attempting to alleviate the pains of the sufferers.
For how can one who is screaming on the inside from relentless self doubt, hope to offer
anything of value to another seeking validation for some sort of conviction.   As they muddy
their feet and leave track marks on the carpet so that you can follow.  And what are you, what am I that follows the track to save the dreamer caught in a cast trap even though I am within arms length.
Then, a sense of deja vu.   As you glance about the room and feel the shackles on your own ankles, and the rattling chains that drag like Jacob Marley in Dickens tale suffering to wallow in self pity.   Then on the other side of  a garden of dying lilies the illuminated smile of evergreen rains that sprout up the buds to flourish again.  And I in the midst.   Everlasting stares through my uselessness, mistaking my bearing witness as a taking part.   And the dreamless lullaby never providing enough slumber.  Tip toes across ugly shag carpet from the pages of my own history.  Emerging through the pages of the catalog, buying the toys, the gadgets, the junk that will alleviate my mind.  Until I look up again and spot the wounded.   And I, nursing my own infection stumble forth like a sickly puppy hoping to find a distress to disperse.
I am, what I am.  A sufferer, suffice to say a wanderer.  With bare feet like a hero cop, top floor of tower building, and trampling through glass.  Grunting the pains away and being ever close, but the script lets loose, and the pages blow away and I'm an actor forgetting his lines and failing to improvise, and the scene collapses and the people are watching.  The people, those evergreen droplets always rejuvenating the floral arrangements before I can even reach with my watering can.   Useless but not motionless.  Useless but not determined, useless but not silent.    Used up, slinking on, tossing one side to the next step till at the bottom stair.  The final tier.   Sitting and waiting to be picked up, hoping to be brought up,
up to a higher stair.