February 10, 2009
When darkness falls
And the night is still,
I think of the lonely Whippoorwill
Who calls his name out
To the night
Like longing plea to end his plight.
Yet, who’s to say his cry be right
For he alone does know his cry,
What voice he speak
I only can try,
To listen deeply in the still
To know what be the Mighty will.
And yet I long to hear
His mournful plea,
To answer yet the plea
Of mine own heart
When darkness falls
And the night is still
I think of the lonely Whippoorwill.
