Flowersong From Afar: The Small Things Bloom

Описание: Little dog on the Sunday road,
Cats sleep in the patch of sun,
Two birds bathing in a blue tin bowl,
Ripples widening, one by one.

No one cheers but the world is watching,
Leaves applaud in the quiet breeze,
Joy is shy but it still arrives,
Hiding in the simplest scenes.

And the small things bloom,
In their own sweet time,
Nothing loud, nothing grand,
Just a gentle kind of shine.

And the day unfolds,
Petal after petal,
With no need to win,
With no need to settle.

Feeding leaves to the tall giraffe,
Ducks drift on a lazy lake,
Someone laughs at nothing much,
Someone stirs sugar into cake.

A fisherman throws a silver line,
The estuary swallows the hook,
Wind writes cursive on the water,
If you’re patient, you can read the book.

And the small things bloom,
In their own sweet time,
Nothing loud, nothing grand,
Just a gentle kind of shine.

And the day unfolds,
Petal after petal,
With no need to win,
With no need to settle.

Not every day needs triumph,
Not every hour needs praise,
Some lives are made of small delights
And ordinary, golden days.

A tiny kingdom of hermit crabs,
A stray cat guarding the door,
The world is busy with miracles
We don’t ask for anymore.

And the small things bloom,
While the big things wait,
We are carried by the quiet,
Not the grand events of fate.

And the day unfolds,
Petal after petal,
With no need to win,
With no need to settle.

Here now.
Just now.
Slow down.
Somehow.

This joy.
So small.
This life.
That’s all.

The road is rough with potholes,
But we travel just the same,
The bushland hums a lullaby,
And nobody knows its name.

If happiness is measured,
Then measure it in crumbs,
Not in trophies or achievements,
But in beats and gentle drums.

Mmm—mmm—mmm—mmm…
Mmm—mmm—mmm—mmm…