I lay myself before you, still and bare,
a flower cut and placed with trembling hands,
not asking for the light, not seeking where
the wind might take me, bound by love's commands.
I have no crown, no voice, no grand design,
only this quiet offering I bring —
a life made yours, each broken part of mine
surrendered like a bird that cannot sing.
Yet even silence laid at sacred feet
is heard by those who kneel and truly know
that love is not in words, but in the sweet
surrender of the self, the letting go.
So here I am, Your flower on the stone.
Take what remains. I am no longer my own.
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