Search out thy blindness. It holdeth Riches past computing. The words of Love set my spirit aflame. The man is blind. A closed book held up against a sightless face.
All sight is of the soul.
It was the miracle of inward sight. Thou blind, loving, all-prying touch, Thou openest the book of life to me. With alert fingers I listen To the showers of sound That the wind shakes from the forest. After the shower is done. My saucy little friend the squirrel Flips my shoulder with his tail, Leaps from leafy billow to leafy billow, Returns to eat his breakfast from my hand.