Across my path You have strewn
A fragment of myself inside another.
What joy at having found
That which I have been waiting for.

Glistening with astounding synchronicity;
Yet its own Self it cannot see.
In stratums of effluvia it sleeps
The weight of misery burdens my heart.

My Lord, what is this you have given me?
Its sleep seems deep and uninterrupted.
It is deaf to my call and blind to my plea.
It knows not how long I have waited.

Set it down with love lest it might break
Gently watch over it like the early morning sun
And remember Your words from that summer,
“Only what is needed to you I shall give.”

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