The hand of the Lord was on me. 
And I, human that I am, found myself amid a valley. 
You know this valley as earth; a place of water and of dirt,
A place from which come life and birth.
But I know that I’m not alone when I say that this valley is filled with bones;
That when I look around I see a sea of drones 
speaking in tones as lifeless as all the stuff we own.
As worthless as our plans to postpone
 That which is already here.
We obsess over this idea of zombies as if it’s hypothetical
As if our biggest concern is some theoretical medical 
condition that wipes us all out. 
Have we not realized we’re living in doubt 
if we think for one second that’s not what this life is already about? 
The dead are among us, 
seeking their exodus from this life of unliving, 
dormant and collecting dust. 

The hand of the Lord was upon me.
He said,
“[Daughter] of man, can these [zombies] survive?”
“Lord, only you know.” 
To which he replies:
To the people hungry for change. 
For someone to remember their name just once
For the ones who feel forgotten 
And the ones who grew up rotten 
and long to be redeemed. 
The poor, the lost, the weak, the meek, 
the bold, the fresh and the old. 
The jerks and the jocks and the ones picking up rocks 
when they’ve got plenty of crimes for which to be stoned. 

Resurrect these bones
Lift them out of the graves they call home. 
Vocalize to them the truth that you’ve known
He said:
Let them hear the word of the Lord. 
Let those who are fighting put down their swords 
and rethink what they are fighting for. 
Comfort those who mourn, 
who believe this world consists of nothing more than sorrow and scorn. 
“Our bones are dried up and our hope is [no more]”

The hand of the Lord was on me.
Breathe, he said.
“Come breath… that they may live.”
More than oxygen. 
More than air. 
More than everything in this fleeting world for which you’ve ever cared. 
Breathe life!
In this valley too familiar with homicide, 
so driven to suicide, 
imagine a world intent on everyone to survive  

We were never meant to hold our breath. 
Sit around and wait for death,
Or at least until we retire.
We are meant to inspire.
So get up out of your chair and make this life worthwhile
And I’m not just talking about a smile 
to a stranger
I’m talking about a full on revival
Bring this world out of denial,
Cause we can’t keep living like
Believing in something bigger than us ain’t your style.