Midnight Hours

by Mark Mangum
It is midnight
And once again I sit at this desk writing
Working my hands until my knuckles bleed
Recording these tales as they come to mind
Calluses and bruises adorn my knees
From all of these midnight hours, I have spent in prayer
Calling up to God
For something different than this
My eyes are sore from the teachings I read
With an open eager mind
In hopes, this can be changed
Tattered lips
For all the words I have spoken in memory of you
To all those who have had the time and patience to listen
The deliverance of my soul will see me away from all my midnight hours
This will not have been spent in vain
For you will be there on the other side
With open arms at mortality’s end


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