A moment passed, as it always seems to
With guilt washing over me like the shore,
Passed without me doing what I need to,
Bound in chains of shame I failed once more.

For what was I bequeathed this gift of time
If not to use passing moments for praise?
Weary, I let passivity be my crime.
These wasted moments lead to wasted days.

The morning light is heavy with regret,
No slumber enough for this restless soul.
I laid down with my dreams serene, and yet,
Overnight my guilt turned soul black as coal.

Saying “I love you” ere I close my eyes,
Means more to me than I could realize.