In the soil of your heart, where Spirit resides,
Plant seeds of thanks, let the old self subside.
Beneath every breath, the sacred is near,
Whispers of grace the soul longs to hear.
Water with prayer, with stillness, with light,
Tend to the roots through the dark of the night.
Each thank you, a hymn; each breath, a vow,
To honor the sacred that lives in the now.
From silence will rise a blossom divine,
Bathed in the glow of the infinite’s shine.
Not merely a flower, but a holy flame,
Each petal inscribed with Love’s true name.
So when the world stirs with chaos and fear,
Return to your garden—the Presence is near.
In the soil of your heart, Heaven takes form,
In thanks, we are gathered; in love, we are born.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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