The soulsickness came back again
With its tearing, shiny teeth
It crept up close, my will to bend
To whisper in my sleep.
Without a touch, with simple song
The disease crept in my blood
Fear breathed new of life gone wrong
With panic lacing morning’s dew.
I will not yield to agony or feats of terror now
I will bend and buck in panic’s winds while my soul trembles in doubt
But still my hope I place in God
Even as my ill soul sighs;
For even when the world is dead,
my God will never die.