A rose amidst the valley of dry bones
Amidst the brokeness of thoughts I screamed
The execution of all that stands,
The death of all I hold dear,
Yet, as I comb the ashes, life begins to seep back to me,
For another had suffered the same grief ,
mutilated flesh on wood, innocent blood to the spit of man
Alas, I am restored now… for here is the grace of the King.
all that was barren now shall bear fruit in multitudes
all that is dead shall now be reborn in fullness,
Nothing can seperate me from this happiness,
For what is the relevance in the deadness of my world?,
of fancyness of the colours… mere show behind the decay,
How can I compare to this grace that I have now?,
a breath back to the sunken lungs of the dead,
a road back to the restoration of all thats gone.
