The world mutters in her sleep,
And The Beloved descends from His throne,
And His grace embraces the souls who have woken up alone.
The sun stretches her calloused fingers
Around the womb of the earth,
And sings the song of life
As the fertile soil gives birth;
To the blossoms that bloom from the bones of the forgotten ones,
To the trees that sprout from the dust of a thousand suns;
To the rocks that stand still in utmost devotion,
To the gushing springs that dream only to merge with the ocean.