Like spring rain on bare soil,
Like clean, pure water for the parched,
Like fresh air after choking fumes
We have walked the desolate highways of the heart
And found no resting place.
We have walked the chattered streets
And found no peace.
And we could not walk on water,
For we drowned.
We are the outcasts of the universe,
The broken bits revolving endlessly
In the vortex of our shame:
The scapegoats of ourselves.
We cannot climb the mountain of the Lord
With dirty hands and impure hearts.
But he will wash us clean.
He speaks, and it is so
And his words remake the universe.
Now we rise up and walk.