Poetry

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In the dark the night seems long. 
I wallow in my distress.
I am a lark. Hear my song, 
  though I am singing less.

I still wait for end of night, 
  it still seems very long. 
In the dark, there's moments of light,
  to match my moments of song.

In the dark it seems You're gone, 
  and why I'm in distress.
Am I the lark that sings Your song? 
Forgive my singing less.  

But I will wait for end of night, 
  no matter how it is long. 
The darker the dark, the brighter the light,
  the greater the joy my song.

Day is coming, one without end,
  unending joyful song to fill it. 
I pray the Father, His Son to send. 
Answer the Seal on my spirit. 


Ps. 43

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