Letters to God

Just a poem

Letters to God

All the time, we're open

Twenty-four in seven

Where past is an image

Of things that'll happen

All the endless letters,

I wrote and still write,

Sailing in the dark heart,

Of my eternal night

What can all my letters

That I have sent to you,

The prayers and the pleas

May change, or can do?

When this is all over,

What'll be left to remain,

Is a pounding heartache,

Above a pounding pain

Ask the One who's holding,

Keys to Hell and Heaven,

Why Should we stay open,

All twenty-four in seven?