PSALMS © 2008
Your tears, grains of silent love,
Caressed by tender, though rare, hands,
Long before they knew the emerging splendour,
Were sown in the hearts of the unbound orphans.
Now, the fruits, ripe with emotion,
Are ready to be harvested, vibrant in the heart.
Only meaning is missing, that thread that connects the dots,
So that the bond may form, and the ties be ready.
Union, that awaited promise,
Is what will give life to the desired harvest.
May love, nurtured in the tears of the past,
Flow freely, and may the heart find its time.