The perishing soul withers like grass,
Withered by blazing sun, no root,
A hopeless hump, a lifeless mass,
Left alone, ending empty of fruit.
But then the imperishable word is sown,
The dead stump begins to grow,
What was lifeless begins to groan,
A bud of hope begins to show.
Glory-less life now breathes splendor,
Acrid death-decay drops off,
Life from above comes upon her,
She rises and is lifted alof'.
Once dead, now destined for harvest,
Yet no longer chaff for the flame.
No longer reaped like the rest,
Now raised by Judah's Lion, the Untame.
Inspired by a meditation of 1 Peter 2:22-25: Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart. 23 For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. 24 For, "All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, 25 but the word of the Lord endures forever." And this is the word that was preached to you. (NIV)