The winds of fate blow not by my breath,
Nor the rivers course by my hand,
I am but one leaf on the vast tree,
Swaying to the rhythm of a greater will.
The stars above chart paths unseen by me,
The oceans rise, fall, without my command,
I am not the maker of this endless tide,
But carried by it, an atom in the surge.
To relinquish this frail illusion of control,
Is to open my heart to the boundless sky,
Where every step I take is not mine alone,
But guided by the hand that moves all things.
In the yielding, I find a strength unknown,
For even the mustard seed grows mighty,
Not by its own power, but by the soil,
And the sun that watches over without pause.
So too do I grow, not by my plan,
But by surrender to a force far greater,
In that yielding, miracles unfold,
The unseen becomes seen, the impossible breathes.
This is the faith that carries me forward,
Not a faith in self, but in the divine thread,
That weaves through all, stitching us together,
A tapestry vast, where I am but one thread.