Morning Dawns

When it starts too early, my eyes are clouded already - or still.  Blinded to all but my needs and desires and selfishness.  When it starts with tears, my pulse quickens, already out of sync with Yours.  That is not the day I want.  Yesterday is not the day I want.  Papa, grab my hand and slow me down.  Stroke my cheek and lift my face.  Whisper Your marvellous lovingkindess gently into my flippant, heartless corners.  That I and they may know You today.