tonight my dear when the hour draws near while the red tail deer steeplechases' though the black forest in fear again through the window of light my dear
songbirds their wings a gift said i tumbling though the blank canvas sky with pride and joy painting their impressions of the windstorm said i shall dip their wingtips in the artist's paint some green some red and blue
the servitude of the black children slaves with bruised and battered souls cast their thumbprint signature upon the red brick and mortar that let these walls speak in tongues thus we build to shelter our masters