Black like blind,
Silent as the mind.
Faith is in the act
And not in the pact.
Early all the time,
Always in its prime.
The sights are blind,
At night we all find.
So in their prime,
The nights of time;
Whiter though blind,
Says what is to find.
In whirls of a mind;
Never there to find,
Nights sure as time
Are safe for to pine.
Very nice..I am glad I find your blog. Peace, Harlon
Thanks Harlon. Kind of you
Wow
Glad you like it….