Like the waves of the sea, are the whispering winds on prairie grasses
Golden grain fold and bend in the cascading dance.
With the hum of Angels wings the grain has learned to dance
In excited celebration they whisper
Of a future harvest in the ears.
“The wind has dried the grain
Grains will be kept and weeds will be burnt
Stories will be told and soon there will be no more hurt.”
But the stars they do grow old.
Kingdoms shaken, rocks will fall.
See the armies as blood and fire fall.
“Don’t give up, a blessing for all who endure.
Don’t give up the wisdom of the mature.”
For the Angels will present the dancing grain.
For the Fathers heart will dance at the presenting of the rain
Will the Bride and the Lord dance in the rain?
Now He leads the grain on horses a new
For all that was old, broken and unkind shall be burnt or made a new.