The trees bud new life,
though they've been dead for many years.
Each flower from the ground like a knife,
cuts the earth where we shed our tears.
The silver clouds dance above,
while the living rest below.
The wind brings sounds of love
from places I don't know.
A voice inside my head
keeps telling me to trust.
I've gone where it has lead
and walked among the dust.
As many others said to me,
we knew this day was near.
Together we had watched to see
and did our best to hear,
the signs as they were shown to us,
the words as they were said.
Now, here I stand among the just.
This is where I've been lead. |
