The valley bakes in the sun-scorched rays of torment.
The unaware dead thirst for vengeance,
dry bones of empty souls enslaved to their lusts.
Desires, never quenched,
mercy is trampled, stones are hurled,
fists are raised, defenses interlocked.
The hammer drives the nails.
The battle rages.
Death begets death begets fear,
unending cycles of violent self-righteousness,
assuage to no end.
Dry bones cry for hope,
the storms of dust they call upon offer no relief.
The cause is futile,
existence is worthless.
Life here is of no matter,
words here are empty.
Hot gasps of breathless void do dry bones make.

The Spirit calls from the four winds.
The reformation of life beckons,
of muscle and sinew and flesh.
A body hangs.
A tree stands tall,
It shades the abused,
comforts the burning.
From the wounds of thorn and iron,
the thirty drink and feast on flesh and blood.
The cup of wrath overflows with relentless mercy.
Love poured out.
Life begets Life!
Fear is taken to the very gallows it built,
dangled in the courtyard for all to see.
Death here is of no matter!
Words here are Living, forever.
The selfless lamb gives life to the repentant bones.
Unbroken, Holy, Blameless,
You are called.

So arise army of the Triune accord,
the Shofar cries for judgement!
The war of souls is at hand.
Grace is our anthem,
Faith is our shield,
Love is our sword.
Victory is assured!
The storm of today will pass,
the hope for tomorrow is never-ending.

It is finished.

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