Home at break of day

Peace be the lamp that dimly shone. When the darkness troubled so. When day drew down on you alone, And the time moved oh so slow. Comfort was the plcture, in it's frame. Of a moment none could hold. So each day seem so much the same. In the early evening gold. So memory's like a soothing balm, As daylight slips away. Silent night and all is calm. At home at break of day. The flowers held in pages pressed, The golden hair gone gray. Let not your dear heart be distressed. For nothing gold can stay. As night must pass to bring the dawn, And every day must end. Where has the child you once were gone? With whom do you contend? Where have your varied highways lead? You fear you've lost your way. Theres hope and comfort up ahead, At home at break of day. Who dares to darken council here? As if he had the right. The fool is he who without fear, Does reckon with the night. That see's himself of consequence, By virtue of his being. And walks his way in cunfidence, Believing he is seeing. He'll find the years at best unkind. Neither black nor white nor gray. And never know the joy he'd find, At home at break of day. Peace is the lamp that dimly burns, In the chamber of the satisfied. The days rush by and the world turns. Yet the spirit does abide. In the hand that once in love did touch, lies all of mortal clay. Truth be told, we all are such. At home at break of day. Yes home at last at break of day, Where a weary soul reclines. Grace is the price no man could pay, And peace is the light that shinesneither, kick or kiss. going home darlin Written December 28th, 2001 © on Dec 28 2001 09:55 AM PST, Patric Patterson    0 • 12