Hallowed Air

My bones lie now atop

and about my

someday grave,

Knowing soon enough they will sleep six feet under.

But while they can still walk upright and carry forth

Through the dark yard of no more, set my soul aright.

I cry out from the clench of evil's wily hands,

I lift mine high in the sky, begging for both of Yours.

May Your righteousness strike the dark with thunder

What's not right with me in my deepest innermost part.

When time plows up these grounds and scatters all bones,

May mine no more be at repose beneath this dying earth,

But made anew with forever eyes cast upon You,

And hands still raised but now even higher in hallowed air.

Psalm 141