A tiny sound, a tiny prayer


A tiny sound,
a tiny prayer

original poetry
and photos



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A tiny sound

A hush falls over the city;
slumber lies thick on the town.
only whispers the wind—
with a gentle, unsure sound.

I am drawn into
that languorous demise.
my soul, upflown
into lofty skies
listens ever soft,
moves softer still.
I am dun become,
waiting my fill.

No rain pours down on the city;
arid and barren the town—
by the cloudstream only
enrobed by a humid gown.

I stumble into
the vast mirage of night
to find, to drink
a draught of moonlight.
As I ask to draw
upon even-well,
Tiny I become:
waiting to swell.

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original poetry and photos by Daniel Pendergraft
posted to blockchain on April 22, 2020.

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A tiny prayer

One has but to writing intend
to be drawn into rivulet's strength.
Allow the low mind to ascend,
to be laved by a waterfall's length
of life which ever flows:
abide with me through days
of fiery sun and frigid snows—
remain with me always.

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