It feels like hope

We clasp our hands
and bow our heads
yet somewhere
deep inside
some part of us
is yearning,
stretching,
cupping its eager hands
in hope of gathering the light.
I stand before You, humble,
and still that longing
glows from deep within:
I hold it gently
as an offering
of trust:
See? I am both shy and bold,
shrinking away and reaching out:
It feels like hope;
approach/avoidance --
How can I be reserved for You
and yet still bloom?


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