My knees will buck, eyes fill with worms and dirt,
While people weep, I will go down to dust,
My life was brief, a day so filled with hurt,
But Christ's great love will save my soul from rust.

And so we die, and we all fear that day,
Although I fear the pain, none else is dread,
For I do know my day will come in May,
When spring arrives, my skin decay, then dead.

My own body will not remain for long,
Put in the ground, yes that will be my fate,
For I am destined for a world of song,
Singing loud and long, for our God is great.

My soul will live beyond this failing age.
I'm soon to see my righteous Father's face.

I would like to live in the trees
making highways of the branches
leaping, spruce to maple
finding homes in the crooks of magnolias
the sun shining through green stained glass
washing me with soft light.

I always wanted to write poetry
to God.
about Him.

But I did not have the courage
to be wrong in front of Him.

And I forgot that I am always
before my God.

That I am always answering
to my Creator.