even Cyclops is king among the blind
secure upon his throne within the cave
mono vision mistaken for sharp mind
weak sight accepted as sign he is brave
the king has never really been unkind
he’s taught them to gather and to save
they’re starving and weaklings are left behind
but they revel, hoard scraps of food he gave
Cyclops leaving his cave and low, dark throne
wanders the stone cold shallows all alone
dimly seeing the crows worry the bones
red breasted with blood the victims moan
all’s well Cyclops knows and grins at the sea
the blind have nobody to set them free
– Ken Peters