Lord, I watched a small flower
today, hidden behind the leaves,
blush and tremble in the wind,
ducking its head while struggling
to shed two last dewdrop tears.
What a night you must have had,
I want to say, but leave all morning greetings
to You, Lord, for I know that it’s only Your voice
that flower longs to hear, Your whisper,
riding at a gallop along the sunrise,
and piercing the shadows of the night.
Your voice, Lord, saying,
“Good morning, little one.”
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