We have no idea where it goes,
  when the spider leaves its weave

We have no idea what’s left to dream,
  when the sandman robs of sleep

We have no idea the day nor hour,
  when our maker calls us home

We can only hope that the love we’ve shared
   —is enough before his throne

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
      From ‘The Book Of Prayers’