I lay me down to sleep tonight, and deep
regret and mourning fill my weary soul
with longing for the watch I cannot keep;
I taste the merest part of my life's whole.
Oblivion's brink looms near; I pause in fear.
It matters not if be a blank abyss,
or if be dreams whose course I cannot steer;
Each night, though dim, reflects death's somber kiss.
Yet sleep I must, if in the morn I'd rise,
and wide awake, with newly opened eyes,
would watch the rosy dawn spread o'er the skies.
My heart awaits the answer to it's cries
when wakened by the trumpet and made whole,
I'll rise as light of morning fills my soul.
A sonnet for St. Benedict
5 days ago