I find the dark hours busy when they should be restful.
I try to compromise my lack of sleepiness with lulling thoughts.
Only prayer avails. Only then can the early anxious subside.
Then tense limbs untangle and electric thought stops jarring.
The darkness sucks me in again but, before I go,
I know that in all these hopeful years I have only managed to drink to the dregs,
again and again, this cup of stumbling.
Only tomorrow can dawn more brightly.
(Numb and hum)
Only tomorrow can dawn more brightly.
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