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The Unsung Prayers
In the dead of night, whispers rise,
Soft, unseen, and veiled from prying eyes.
No altar stands, no candle's gentle glow,
Yet prayers in silence grow, like seeds below.
They twist like smoke, ethereal and thin,...
Soft, unseen, and veiled from prying eyes.
No altar stands, no candle's gentle glow,
Yet prayers in silence grow, like seeds below.
They twist like smoke, ethereal and thin,...
