Dry bones do not swing round with its lost youth;
They creak, croak, cry with ashes and gray dust,
Move but cannot cover its hopeless truth:
It gathers only age, brokenness, must
Yield to the merciless and all mighty - time;
Left to crumble and fall, long forgotten,
Long abandoned, suffering under crime
Of losing what was borrowed - youth ungiven;
Futile, its attempt to reclaim its strength;
Vain, its desire to rise from its tight chains;
There is no height or depth, no width or length
That can hold all of its sorrows and pains;
But dry bones dance! Oh, dry bones stand! Rise up! Fight
for the next morning and its refreshing light!