You’re rising somewhere in the April night
Again, as ever with returning spring.
Your tomb will be found empty at first light
Again. The dead cells of Your corpse ignite
And flame to life; the spheres of Heaven ring.
You’re rising somewhere in the April night
To glory. For a moment all is right;
The universe pays homage to her King.
Your tomb will be found empty at first light.
The constellations take their measured flight
But at their Maker’s breath blaze bright their swing.
You’re rising somewhere in the April night
Again, as all the Cherubim unite
With Archangels, Dominions, Thrones and sing:
Your tomb will be found empty at first light.
For those brief seconds, all the world is quite
As good as Eden: Death has lost its sting.
You’re rising somewhere in the April night;
Your tomb will be found empty at first light.
—Mary-Patrice Woehling
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