The Troubles Of Life

I went to bed on Friday night, depressed in my heart.
My world seemed rent asunder, my horizons torn apart
For a while, I lay silent, buried shoulder high in fears
The dark is so much darker through a microscope of tears.

When the wetness of my pillow had subsided to dry,
I tip-toed to my window and surveyed the morning sky.
The faintest flush of rose announced the coming of the dawn
And I felt my spirit lifting 'til all my troubles were gone.

When the troubles come to haunt me as a conscience to a thief,
I think about the morning sky and there I find relief
I'm certain there was trouble when the world had just begun
But the fear evaporated with the rising of the sun.