*On His Blindness*
When I consider the bulb burnt out I cannot see it.
Ev'ry night is a struggle in the room with a view
And my only talent is the nakedness I hide--
Scorning me, in it's youthfulness unseen:
An Unspent coil, a snake, to serve my Maker,
far from the Garden wall...There's no accounting
...Lest, he return, chilled.
Why is God a day laborer,
and all Darkness on Sunday?
I fondly ask..no light, no incandescent bulb
It's okay, I'll pay the bill,
on the 'morrow.
He'd made me strong to Work
And, if I can find my Best Clothes
In The Darkness,
I shall stand and serve forever
in a candle-lit restaurant.