Living in the Night

Some people live in shadow,
They’re always in the night.
They struggle for tomorrow,
Yet never see its light.

They sweat blood in darkness,
And each day raises the same.
The air lies cold and hopeless
For their future has no name.

Perhaps their path’s the hardest,
To reap with no reward.
To live and die in harness,
And never grasp the sword.

To offer vibrant youth
On altars so demanding,
Only to see blank eyes in every booth
And shakes from all those standing.

Will they press on in faith
When all around grows dim?
When angels fear to contemplate,
And hell would reel them in?

As tasks appear unending,
And ‘progress’ a forgotten word,
Ears can be blinkered to rejoicing
And understanding may lie unheard.

To fight for a distant victory,
An end they will not see –
And not even have the certainty,
That such an end will ever be –

That’s a short stick to pull,
A bitter dreg to swallow:
To stagger on in blindness,
and breathe only for tomorrow.

They dig at deep foundations,
And hope they won’t be torn down.
Is it in vain they counter frustrations?
Do they polish a toy tin-crown?

‘Not so!’ The sparrows cry.
No work is done in vain,
If for the Lord comes each sigh
Every tear and fearsome maim.

For His purposes stand still;
Are manifested in each life.
Arrow-straight lie every furrow and till,
However crooked seem the cyph.

So darkness is some men’s lot;
Despair and fear and always night.
Yet still each tear holds to a plot,
And with the morning will come Light.