Matthew Lyle Landsman

I wake up in the wee hours sometimes,

when most of the world is asleep,

and listen to the peace over much of the land.

And I feel the lonely souls,

and smell the un-brewed coffee,

and feel the chill of the untended fires,

and await the dawn that few wait for,

and I listen to all night radio,

and wonder about the isolated souls in hospital rooms.

But then the gentle breeze rises to a howling fury,

and rearranges what can’t hold fast,

accompanies her primal roar

with a chorus of tumbling and skidding chorus there.

So while the tranquility has been shattered…

And taken away the essence of that which matters,

In but an instant…and a siren’s wail fills the night.

Power and the illusion of control are lost at once…

And too, while we sleep, or wish to be,

Much is lost somewhere along the way.

But I know that regardless of the solitude,

I’m never alone, abandoned…

For regardless of what happens around me,

Faith resides, abides, and dwells within…

And cradles me in an a sweet embrace,

till sleep again finds me.