At five years old, the world went dark, no colors left to see,
But in the hush of quiet nights, a different light found me.
With fingertips, I learned to read the silence in each line,
And though the world was written fast, I made a slower sign.
Six tiny dots upon a page, a language of the hand,
I shaped a path for hearts like mine to finally understand.
Though few believed, I kept the flame until the world caught on—
That words don’t live in eyes alone, they linger when they’re gone.
You and I, though we don’t see
The stars up in the sky,
We feel them in a different way—
With every breath, we try.
The books we read with gentle touch
Still make our spirits fly!
So if you feel the darkness near, just know you're not alone.
Our hands can hold a thousand dreams, more brilliant than stone.
With every dot, a world unfolds, a voice begins to rise—
We see the truth not just with sight, but deep behind closed eyes.