How blessed the night ,
that’s just before dawn ,

That draws out the light ,
Out of the vastness of space .

Which joys are brought forth by the pitter patter of the rains .



The unseen man who walks by day
Who is broken inside .                                                                ­                For his lady has left in a terrible rage
For
Now  he drinks whisky all day and all night ,
and keeps a bottle of pills and a gun in a draw by his side .
                    
Blessed be the child who kneels at his bed
his candel burns brighter than the rest it is said .


Yet The candel that still flickers at night ,
when the widow
has no food to eat ,
and her children are out begging in the street .

The desperate child ,
Who has nowhere to hide

Blessed be the mountains so vast and wide
the unknown universe that has yet to be seen .
That we might one day figure out the wonders of God ,
In th£ termites and butterflies,
One the harvester of tears ,
the other ,who gives wonderment to the child ,
who chases butterflies in a field .

Blessed be the harvester the sower  of seeds ,
who gives hope to the lost ,
for he is the giver of dreams .