A poem on working at night

The night is yet old,

the burdens yet ending.
Still the day will come,
and then our work might soon resolve.

Many seek hope but found despair.
Sought love, but found hate.
Thought joy, but gained tears.
We thought we knew our goal,
but we were really lost.
And piece by piece we pick,
the fragment of our dreams.

Only He remains.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s