As I walk down this dark and dead meadow,
A flower snares my eyes.

Captive by it's beauty,
I kneel before it,
And pray.

I pray to the Lord,
Begging for more of it's kind,
For the meadow to fill,
With the flower divine.

As I sleep,
In my bed far away,
I dream of the flower;
In days upon days
And nights upon nights,
The flower does spread,
Removing the blight.

I wake the next morning,
To the dead meadow I rush,
And upon arrival,
A sea of color in flush.

As I walk down this divine and bright meadow,
A tree snares my eyes.

Captive by it's pain,
I kneel before it,
And pray.

I pray to the Lord,
Begging for it's health,
For the tree to heal,
And its blight to dispel.

As I sleep,
In my bed far away,
I dream of the tree;
Days upon days
And nights upon nights,
The tree does heal,
Escaping it's spite.

I wake the next morning,
To the decrepit tree I sprint,
And upon arrival,
A tower in the wind.

As I walk to this tree, massive and grand,
A seed snares my eyes.

Captive by it's frailty,
I kneel before it,
And pray.

I pray to the Lord,
Begging for it's strength,
For the seed to rise up,
A grove in it's wake.

As I sleep,
In my bed far away,
I dream of the seed;
Days upon days
And nights upon nights,
The seed becomes many,
A circle of light.

I wake the next morning,
To the burrowed seed I dash,
And upon arrival,
A halo detached.

As I walk to this tranquil and loving grove,
A riverbed snares my eyes.

Captive by it's sorrow,
I kneel before it,
And pray.

I pray to the Lord,
Begging for it's embrace,
For the bed to well up,
A flow of pure grace.

As I sleep,
In my bed far away,
I dream of the riverbed;
Days upon days
And nights upon nights,
The rains keep falling,
A channel of might.

I wake the next morning,
To the dried river I prance,
And upon arrival,
A glimmering lance.

As I walk to this strong and beautiful river,
A meadow and grove and river all snares my eyes.

I pray to the Lord,
Begging for it's warmth,
For a home in this once dark land,
That God has now morphed.

As I sleep,
In my bed far away,
I dream of the meadow;
Days upon days,
I see a man dressed in white,
Moving the river to cut across the flowers,
Taking the grove and changing it's like.

I wake the next morning,
To the meadow I trot,
And upon arrival,
A home God has brought.

I wake the next day,
And rush out of bed.

I knock on your door,
And kiss your sweet head,
I take your hand and skip to the meadow,
To show you the home God has now shed.

I kneel before the door
And pray to God for his gift:
The home he had made,
Born from decay,
Turned into life,
Woven from love,
And dreams alike.

He gave us love,
A home,
Our life;
He gave me you,
A flawless light.