If you are my age, and I suspect many are, you are familiar with the poignant song, “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life.”
I remember the first time I heard it. A blind man was bent over the piano pouring his heart into the keys, it seemed. Surely, he felt the mystery of being sightless in a sighted society. It was obvious that he knew well the longing, seeking, striving, waiting, yearning. He understood the burning hopes, the joy and idle tears that fall.