the song of the watchmen

I originally meant for this to be a song. The last paragraph would be the chorus. I'm not sure it would work though. Maybe I will one day but for now, it's a poem =D


the night is not still
feel the enemy moving
eyes all around
do they know they are losing?
the city must not sleep
or it will not wake
here on the stone wall
we watch for the day

darkness is crawling
a thick murky fog
it mocks our belief
some lose hope of the dawn
their shrieks tear into
the deafening silence
hush! the earth echoes
the music inside us

and in the chill of the night
a clear piercing voice
our hearts leap with hope
and the call to rejoice
we strain our eyes
we lift up our song
the Morning Star!
daylight comes

Comments

Lizzi said…
image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/markbridge/290893555/
January 21, 2011 at 7:34 PM
Melany said…
I would love to hear it as a song. If you finish the music for it, you will have to play it for me when I come. I like it as a poem too though.
January 24, 2011 at 7:09 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

and the darkest of hours was the best day ever

Image
Good Friday is my favorite holiday although sometimes I'd rather pass over the darkness quickly look to the Sunday sunrise but you've got to sit in the horror of it a little while make your home beneath the Cross and you'll see how He was torn the slow suffocation the life-blood that seeps away, congealed and continual how His loved ones must have prayed for death to hurry what agony to see Him suffer, exposed and shamed, for hours on end but they didn't even know the half of it all hell's darkest powers many eternity's worth of torture, concentrated into this slim span of time creation strains under the weight of this confusion something is terribly, terribly wrong the sun knows it, and dares not look on the horrible sight the earth shudders violently in fear the agonizing shriek rings out Forsaken and yet, He has asked for the bitter wine and vinegar He is willing to drink down the dregs of His Father's wrath The crumbs of His br
Read more

Isaiah 46:4

Image
Do you have a moment, sir; could you tell me a story? I can see at least one held captive in your eye If you have a moment, ma'am, I'd like to hear a little of the storms that traced the lines where my cheek is still smooth Tell me, sir, of a day that one white hair stands for and most of all I want to know what kept that twinkle in your eye Please tell me, ma'am, how you're still smiling though you've known pain and heartbreak so much longer than I have Was it easier to let go the tenth time? Do you ever get used to being lonely? When I've seen as much as you, I want to rejoice as well as you do. Will you teach me how to grow old?
Read more