Sunday, November 3, 2019

Even The Hairs Of Your Head Are Counted

I see what hides 
When day closes its eyes
It is the sleeping sun

Black is the sun at night
Yet it shines, wakeful though sleeping
Open up your eyes
See a drop of the sun in the face of the moon,
Peeping at you through the blanket of a million stars.

God watches those who sleep and dream of restless peace.

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