Gratitude rises,
when recognized is completion.
To be thankful for the flower
is to have love for the whole garden.

Where is the rose,
separate from its thorns?
Pain only rises, when we grasp at
what is not only yours.

To hold this flower gently
is to be open, and to not grip tightly.
An inner knowing, not yours or mine
-but a temporary reflection,
always will it be.

To be without this, thankfulness
is to argue with the stars.
For even they, are connected
to the garden that gave birth
to your precious heart.

If this remains unfound,
encouraged are you to sit,
and listen, to the inseparable nature
between you and everything else.

Grateful, not for this or that
-only, for everything.
Thank you, Thank you… Thank you
Is the most sincere prayer
You will ever sing.