The Lord set me down in a valley.
A valley full of bones.
Does God exist really.
Is he master of all the thrones.

We enter a dark night.
The soul does not exist.
Nothing we were taught is right.
Truth , what is it , is hidden in mist.

Our bones will rot.
No one will remember.
This is our final lot.
It falls like the nighttime chill of November.

But deep somewhere.
Is hope , a spirit arising out of fear.

…….

We pass the valley
It is full of rotting bones
But surely there’s hope

…….

See Ezekiel 37 : 1-14