The bitter, waning night
Staring in the face of those I shamed,
Even myself, as my dull eyes lift,
Turning toward heaven’s ever-burning light.
And though I know the rich hues,
Burning down in blinding light,
The night, corrupt with thorns,
Arrows shooting at my eyes, my sight.
The sordid light has cast away,
For now, the burning light,
Darkening my sight, amber is the pale moonlight,
And beams of fright affix the sadness of my plight.
But it is tonight
That I will scrape and pull the thorn
Out of my side, and turn my eyes
Toward heaven’s holy light.
For God is with me, as I take flight,
Yes, He is here tonight,
As I turn the light, the word, my cherished light,
And curse the bitter, waning night.
