My prayer drills through crystals of the sky;
my lips are uttering the hallowed parole,
and heaven’s dust fills up my hands with gold
of peace and of assurance that my cry
is heard in spheres where my Father dwells.
I knows this. I feel it with my cells.
4.01.2012
Prayer
© Copyright: Альбина Кумирова, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119013000896
Свидетельство о публикации №119013000896
Рецензии