IN THE FOURTH WATCH OF THE NIGHT
"The breeze at dawn has its secrets
to tell you. Don't go back to sleep."
These are the hours that pale to night.
Cold, dark days where time winds back,
slowly receding; yielding.
Somber nights thick with the air of uncertainty.
This is my private Gethsemane.
Sometimes at the edge of brokenness,
the lonely landscape of my heart knows
the thinly veiled revelations,
but my mind can't yet comprehend,
what my spirit already knows.
Truth speaks in a tight vein,
exposing flesh and marrow.
Releases wisdom, like
the fragrance of crushed petals.
It is a ladder of blessings
that spans height and depth,
where angels thread.
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