I declare my fragilities and my fears. They are the delicate threads that weave the fabric of my soul—the warp and weft of vulnerability. I am weak, yes, and small—a mere mote of stardust adrift in the cosmic expanse. But within this fragility lies a quiet strength, a resilience born of surrender.

Let Me Walk in Beauty

Let me walk in beauty, for beauty is the language of the divine. The red and purple sunsets—their hues bleeding across the canvas of the sky—are my hymns. I drink them in, these fleeting moments of grace, and they nourish me. They remind me that even impermanence can be exquisite.

Make My Hands Respect the Things You Have Made

Make my hands respect the things you have made—the gnarled roots of ancient trees, the smooth stones worn by eons of tides. Let me touch the world with reverence, as if every leaf, every pebble, holds a secret code. For in their silent existence, they whisper truths—the quiet wisdom of existence itself.

Make My Ears Sharp

Make my ears sharp, attuned to the symphony of existence. Let me hear your voice—the susurrus of wind through pine needles, the laughter of children, the lament of distant waves. Teach me to listen beyond the noise—to discern the hidden melodies that weave through the mundane.

Make Me Wise

Make me wise, not in arrogance, but in humility. Let wisdom flow through me like a mountain stream, eroding the rough edges of ignorance. Show me the lessons hidden in each leaf—the chlorophyll-laden scriptures—and in each rock—the ancient tablets of time. Let me understand the language of seasons, of birth and decay.

Not to Be Superior, but to Fight My Greatest Enemy

Not to be superior to my brothers and sisters, but to wrestle with my greatest adversary—myself. The shadows within, the doubts that gnaw like hungry wolves—they are my battleground. Grant me the courage to face them, to embrace my flaws, and to emerge scarred but undefeated.

Make Me Ever Ready

Make me ever ready to come before you with clean hands and a straight eye. Let my intentions be clear, my heart unburdened. As life wanes, like a fading sunset slipping below the horizon, may my spirit ascend without shame. For in the end, it is not the grandeur of deeds that matters, but the purity of intent.

And so, I stand here, a seeker like you, whispering my own prayer into the cosmic winds. May our fragilities be our strength, our fears our steppingstones. And may we find grace in the quiet spaces, where the sacred and the mundane entwine, forever dancing in the twilight of existence. 🌟✨

© Beatriz Esmer

Watercolor Art – Gente Collection