When All Else Fails, Wait For Morning

I am reminded of a poem written by James Whitcomb Riley titled: “TIME”. He talks about waiting for morning…how we sometimes toss this side and whirl that way, and moan for dawn. Oh yes, the tick, tick, ticking of the clock vexed me last night! I was with Riley’s words till after midnight. But don’t get upset, I wasn’t basking in every word.

I’ll bet you may find yourself in what he wrote…

“Wait for the morning! Ah! we wait indeed. For the daylight, we who toss about in stress because of vacant-armed desires and emptiness. Of all the warm, warm touches we need, and the warm kisses upon which we feed.”

And then Riley really gets to it…

“Warm as the yearning blood our poor hearts bleed! ….A wild prayer! –bite thy pillow — praying so– Toss this side, and whirl that, and moan for dawn;  Let the clock’s seconds dribble out their woe, And Time be drained of sorrow! Long ago…We heard the crowing cock, with answered drawn, As hoarsely sad our throats sob. …Pray on!”

I’ve never saved the world in all my sleepless nights, but I’ve often saved myself from troublesome problems when my mind hashes over a mess I’m in, and I figure the way out. God bless those sleepless nights.


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