The crack in the blinds.
The hole in the fence. We see but a line, But not the extent. Under the door, A light in the hall. My face to the floor Ears hear the call. The fog across the way. The candle in the night. It’s dangerous to stay. I walk with no sight. What does it require, To march through the mist? Hand stretched forward Faith to persist. My eyes are closed, Blind to all fear. Ears hear the sound Of the Voice that is clear. Comments are closed.
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