I'm up late tonight, my eyes a little dried out and blood shot but its worth it. I have tons to say but really no energy to say it all. This poem captures a little bit of how I've been feeling lately so I'll end it with this.


Thou knowest all our weeping, fainting, striving;
Thou know'st how very hard it is to be;
How hard to rouse faint will not yet reviving;
To do the pure thing, trusting all to thee;
To hold thou art there, for all no face we see;
How hard to think, through cold and dark and dearth,
That thou art nearer now than when eye-seen on earth.

George MacDonald