Elijah is a cry of pain
Splitting the skies, tearing our eyes
He is a broken heart
Spilling its life blood on the ground
With hollow eyes and sleepless nights all around
The prophet rode the heavens in a chariot of fire
Our Elijah left in a chariot of violence
Might not the prophet brink him back?
Too much to ask, I know -
Only a little while I need to see him smile -
Then, perhaps, I can let him go.
For Clayton Elijah Don Hinkle
Ten is too young to die.
Iíll spend the rest of my life asking why?
Take my years, Lord. I donít need them.
Give those years to Elijah - that he might live and not die.
All my life screaming why?
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