In whispered tones beneath the sky,  
Where dreams and wishes softly lie,  
The prayer ascends, a hopeful flight,  
Beyond the grasp of mortal sight.

It's not the words, when first they're spoken,  
Nor in the silence, deep and unbroken,  
That marks the moment, true and grand,  
When prayers fulfill what they demand.

It weaves through lives in unseen ways,  
Through darkest nights and brightest days,  
A gentle force, a guiding light,  
That brings the sought-for dawn to night.

For completion's gift, a treasure rare,  
Is found in the hearts of those who care,  
When the prayer, at last, takes its form,  
In peace that follows after the storm.

So hold the faith, and let it be,  
A beacon for all humanity,  
For prayers are answered, not at their start,  
But in the fruition found in each heart.

March 12, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop