Make me blind again
to the shadows of indifference
that spread across unfertile black fields.
I’ve seen your cold emptiness
and I’ve felt your bitter cynicism
take root in my heart.
Make me blind again
to the ravages of time
in my morning mirror.
Weathered wrinkles of shame
and failure and fear accusing me
of crimes only I know I’ve committed.
Make me blind again
to the white capped waves of regret
lapping on shores of sorrow;
my footprints left behind
in the intractable sand of the beach
of things said and done.
Make me blind again
to the bubbling poisons of disease
and the toxic fumes they emit.
Make me blind again to the inevitability and clarity
with which I see a future
of diminishment and loss.
Make me blind again
to the darkened skies and barren trees
of the black forest of death.
Make me blind again to all I know
because seeing nothing is the same
as seeing everything.
Drivel by Dave 
Here is the only response I can offer to the words you’ve chosen to write to express such sorrow:
You are important to me.
You have added sunlight to my life with your friendship.
That friendship has helped me cope with terrible times.
You are an essential part of a troika of relationships that have absorbed me into their, your, orbit.
My aging face won’t wrinkle because it is partially paralyzed.
I see that every morning, too, and regret it.
That is all I can say to attempt to slightly balance the darkness you face within and without.
Love matters.
You are important to me.
Bob Katzman
Dave, while disagree with your philosophy to make me blind again, it says a lot more then that I like your poem a lot, reading it again and again, and enjoying it each time. Your flow of word pictures lets me see what you are saying. You use the paint brush of words as a poet does.