Alone he walked in blind despair;
No one even seemed to care.
His very soul cried for the light;
Not even the sun rays could he sight.
Of course he felt its warmth and knew,
By inward sense the sky was blue.
He knew the scent of grass and tree,
But ne'er its splendour did he see.
In bitter darkness was he born,
Into a life sad and forlorn,
Where darkness never turned to morn.
Then one day he heard a voice;
Its tender warmth made his soul rejoice.
Two tender hands, they touched his eyes,
His heart told him it was the Christ.
Those loving hands then added the clay.
The water would wash his darkness away
For the very first time he would see day.
Floods of joy welled in his soul;
Down his cheeks the tears did roll.
Into his eyes there rushed the light;
God had given him back his sight.
His eyes met those of one so fair,
The depth of their love one could not compare
Jesus, Himself stood before him there.
What else could he do but praise the name,
Of his mighty healer who his saviour became.
* This too was written when I was sixteen fo C.A.'s. It is based on John 9:1-16