Dull sounds of silence

breed its seeds

of apathy, caught

in downpour

of smog, veiling

absence of light,

weeping echoes

left behind,

hardened clay

without center,

dead trek

to nowhere,

hunting for hope.

Awe extinguished

as sun beats down.

Now the day is over,

Night is drawing nigh

Shadows of the evening

Steal across the sky.

Jesus give the weary

Calm and sweet repose

With thy tenderest blessing

May mine eyelids close

Glory to the Father,

Glory to the Son

And to thee blessed Spirit

While all ages run.

Sabine B. Gould