Profit

[circa 1990]

A grand despair.
Standing alone
In a valley of dry bones;
The dead and dusty landscape
Of a dreamy nightmare vision.
And a question comes on me
From beyond my mortality,
"Prophet, child of Cain!
Can these bones come back,
Stand erect again?"

Out of ashes, the adam,
First sojourner, while still one,
Wandered from the elements
To life: called by You.
"You made me human,
Who would walk away,
And welcomed me!
Can these bones come back?
Have eyes again to see?
Great God of bones
And dust! You know what
The mystery is worth.
Only You know the profit
Of putting breath back in earth."