Young children have nightmares,
things that scare them in the night.
But the real nightmare is to search for someone,
That is no where in sight.

To try and see His face,
To look into His eyes,
To hear His voice,
And not just empty sighs.

Your heart beats fast,
Your mouth is dry,
Your stomach churns,
You want to cry.

Where has He gone.
What have you done?
Did He really mean it,
When He said you are the one?
The questions keep running,
Around in my head.
No answers are coming,
Just sickening dread.

What will He say,
What will� you hear?
This damn uncertainty,
Is the real nightmare.


Copyright

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