No.159826
The night sky darkens,
The people of the land say,
"Closed are the curtains,
All that it is, is but in delay"
Yet they all hold no sway,
Over the long causeway,
That I had from brick to brick, built,
Over that was mine own and was my willed,
The one that I could say that was my own,
Despite the fact to some that it was unknown