March to bed,
I should have turned in,
Quite a time ago,
But alas I sit here late,
And poem for a silly consequence,
Of pushing sleep to other hours.

Tears of love stain the cloth,
And dripping drops plummet before they stop,
And shatter on the pavement.

Spread your seed out in the open,
May it land on the good soil,
Lead your sheep to be more patient and gracious,
May my words follow your true sword,
We both know I can't do it Lord,
May your strength be in my every motion.

Hey eye-opener,
Little drained after that one,
I'm sorry for trying to carry more than I should have,
I leave it in your hands.