Cleansing

Out of chaos comes creation; out of cynicism, hope
A living, breathing, testifying army comes from a pile of bones
A bunch of clay becomes a human; out of he, a she
He turns the mourning into dancing, as morning follows eve, morning follows eve

And He has reassured me, time and time again,
I cannot chase Him elsewhere, or scare off His right hand
And when I'm feeling dirty, and push everyone away,
He calms and cleans my spirit, and creates a brand new day