Glory be to the morning
Amen to the rhythm in every breath
This life has gone and made music of my body
Faces come and go all carrying the same song
A hymn of forgiveness,
Sunday ran over into the rest of the week
I still hear gospel choirs on thursday afternoons,
What a world this is, what a life worth living,
I’m not one for prayer but the concept of god intrigues me,
Still asking the questions with answers I know will never come,
Still counting the days since the people I love have passed,
Praise to the children who are searching for their names
Praise to the ones who stared into the abyss
Praise to the wise
Praise to the poets who spoke words as great as myths
The ones who built cathedrals in the empty of their palms
And glory be to the night as she lulls the world to sleep
Awaiting the songs that we shall sing in the morning