It is a poem  

from your heart 

each night.  

 

It is the ocean's answer  

to the push and pull  

of the grey cratered moon. 

 

It is a mustard seed 

planted in dark soil with hope, 

watered with patience, 

blooming with faith. 

 

It is the teardrop petals 

of the honey-spiced lotus, 

opening to dawn. 

 

It is an iron rod 

on a cobblestone path 

ringing with potential  

hitherto unknown.  

 

Blackness blankets,  

buries, 

burrows––  

humming low 

biding its time. 

 

Let light lift 

you into  

eternal life. 

 

It is a wave 

that returns on fresh winds 

whispering after it's sent. 

 

It is a conversation, 
if you listen— 

answers come. 

​

"May your quill never run dry."

-Manda May ✨