The umpteenth time.

For the umpteenth time I kneel In daylight,  for nights prayers are crowded rooms, and if I have questions to do with my fate, bid highly for my tombs. Shadows can't change themselves,  waiting the movement and expertise,  the carrier of garments,  silk to touch, and warmer than a fleece. Should a lamb quote midnight,  countless hours till dawn, the lantern in the streets, the gnomes on the lawn. Passengers like gargoyles beside the gates of the trusted haire,  into the golden light, with penance there, stones become the fallen, the overhead canopy of angels dust, and as I kneel in this fare land, too bare heart to trust, does the light of day besodd, and kiss the stars appearing while dark, for no mans prayers have ever lost , where woman's love keeps that spark.