Blinded at seven 
with lye in the eyes,
and crooning on corners 
for nickels and dimes
with a cup round his neck 
by a thin piece of twine,
a bottleneck guitar
and a knife for a slide,
he played “Sweeter As 
the Years Go By” 
and sang “Praise God, 
I’m Satisfied”
to crowds of protestors 
or passersby,
till his home burned down, 
he froze, and he died.

This was the death 
and this was the life
of Blind Willie Johnson,
whose “Dark was the Night,
Cold was the Ground” 
was later inscribed
on a thin golden record 
that now rests inside
a titanium spacecraft 
sent far out of sight,
just recently leaving 
our sun's ruling light
and off to new worlds 
Willie never realized
would ever be reached 
by the sound of his cries:

a death that no mortal 
could hope to survive,
a life now transcending 
our stars and our skies.