Today, I look, as I sit at school, out of a window into the side of the mountain slope right outside and say, "May God be praised."

In a place where rocks and trees don't know You,

All the world breathes still, all the world sings still.

Their notes have drowned Your name, blinding eyes and ears that used to hear the same,

All that's left now, the whirring of crickets in the hot sumer sun, only speaks

Of a land that used to know.

You.

In a place where mute men speak

The idols of men's hands, loom over, 

This faraway land that lives right here in, I'm right here in,

It's heart covered in the jungles of tradition-fixed fear, I'm right here, and yet

All around me is dead, not

Here.

Something else lives, it's only a shadow puppet that seeks to know

Us. I'll hold to God, Him I'll know, but no other. Please,

Show me what is real in time, each moment, Who really has

Power and might, not stone monuments that hear nothing, silence everything,

Let Your Name live on, oh Christ Jesus, You're my

life, my.

Guide. 

Through every trial, every false man, past every silence that roams, You're still my

Voice. Still my

Choice. Still my only reference when faced

With eternity's noise, I know which is true Joy and calls, "My 

Boys, my sis, my family this is where you'll rest your head of waters in.

The palm of My Hands."

I stand.

In a place where even the dust does not praise You for the sins of the people who

Do not praise Your name for the deafness of their hearts, who

Have not raised their hands to You, yet raised them to pieces of wood, who

Claim to save people who feed them daily, and yet You

Lord, God Almighty reign, 

From the mouth of babes to the oldest sage, I cannot deny,

You are glorious. I let my tears fall, give up my face, and hold my hands in.

Praise.

On second thought, these hills Do know You.
When I do...