Monday, April 30, 2007



Slowly into slumber,
Racing for cold sleep,
Come fast, the time I covet
With dreams I'd like to keep.

I'm desperate for my peace,
So eager for relief,
Thoughts that always wander
Repeat my daily grief.

I tire of truth and wisdom;
I yearn for long knives and loss.
My moments spent like this
Pull focus from the Cross.

How much of me is Simon?
How much is still Barrabbas?
The thieves next to my savior
Seem closer with each pass

Of breath between my lips,
On words that slip my tongue.
The bittter moments' names
Are songs that stay unsung.

But none of this is rest.
I count a thousand sheep.
Give mercy for exhaustion.
Cut down what's left to reap.


No comments: