I’m certain he only spoke in riddles and addled tongue. The only thing they saw clearly were his lies, and his words were as mysterious as that which laid plainly before them but beyond their sight.
I’m certain he was deemed a heretic and insane. Willingly stepping up to be tied to the stake and lit aflame many times for their sake. Stoned and beaten, lashed and bruised. Only to step down and try again.
I’m certain he offered to lay down before them. Trampled by those he dreams to save, with the only result of his attempts streaming slowly down his cheeks. Because beneath them was were he belonged.
I’m certain he was scarred unnecessarily.
I’m certain, however hard they beat him, the harder he held them and told them it was alright.
I’m certain, eventually, those considered crazy by the world will stand their ground. So that when the world turns to face him, they will see the truth he holds, and weep for themselves. Only then will they follow him with blind trust with the same dedication that they ravaged him.
I'm certain it was at the cost of blood and pain.
In the land of the blind, even the one-eyed man must earn his kingdom.
