In dreams that cannot remember, in awakening before the sun;
A still soft voice hovers over the quiet dark horizon.
The prayer. To see through the eyes of the LORD,
the people of everyday.
An answer, hangs like breath in the air.
A gentle reminder, that today is a new day.
Pure chaos -- grueling conversation;
marked distincly by empty resignation.
Every word will not go un-heard,
every sound gathers 'round, to the cry for life.
Lord, is this right?
How does one see through the eyes of God?
To be sure, no one can. But to try, and fail,
and know that one voice is enough to shatter
flesh so frail.