Scribbles in the night
That have profoundness in the evening,
When the stars are your compass,
Rather than the blaring of traffic
Seem to have meaning so
Ethereal (like a whisper from a friend
In an exam hall,
Not quite heard).
You want so hard to grasp
For the intention in the words,
But reach too far,
Let voice ring out in silence,
And meaning will escape you.
In the night, we do not grab at words.
We let them float,
And even on our own,
We treat them with respect.
A silent solitude, a rest for them.
Gratitude for the services of the day.
So in the night, we write
And what is bible-truth and gospel-word
Is in the day
Just scribbles in the night.
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