No rose
(not a single one)
ever bloomed in an instant.
Listen to the silence
of the journey.
Let the rose bloom
as she will.
No rose
(not a single one)
ever bloomed in an instant.
Listen to the silence
of the journey.
Let the rose bloom
as she will.
I’d like to find the sunshine
beneath my pillow, when I wake.
And I will cup it in my hands,
and I will hold it close and whisper:
‘Shine, sweet little light.
Shine ever brightly,
might the pathway ahead
light and walk with me.
The great news is this.
If I am here,
there is nowhere else
I’m meant to be.