Thought
Migrants by the millions roam
Searching for a better home
Perched on flimsy boats that creak
Clinging onto floats that leak
But early morning Mother gave
Hope and crispness air she saved
Bright finger nail of moon up high
And Venus close in morning sky
Fresh dew lay upon the ground
Sacred mood and footfall sound
Heat and water, air in breath
Combined for life, resisting death
All this and more that I may pray
To that one dressed in day’s array
Carrying blessings from this morn
To share a hope with those forlorn
Prayer
O Lord may every breath be an offering to Thee. May every word be Thy prayer; may every feeling that arises be fragrance for Thy pleasure; may every thought contain an image of Thee. May every desperate wandering soul find their home in Thee.
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