It's a childish thing at my age: To fear darkness, emptiness, or blade Or to cry over life's turning of a page.
Yet, here I am: tears wet my cheeks. Here I am: I cannot sleep.
I mourn over lost days, months, and weeks And with foolish faith I hide in blankets deep.
But growing up leaves blankets a poor comfort in the dark. No "Teddy Dear" could ever hold all the sorrows in my heart. No nightlight as a beacon; no candle, fire, or spark No Mummy and Daddy to come and rend my fears apart.
I am alone tonight, and this knowledge cuts me deep. I must face my fears at last and trust the Lord my soul to keep.
For if the lights do not go out, and darkness is never ours We would never know the wonder of a sky full of stars.