Not enough

12 8 2
                                    

They say all praises are for You,
Yet the ones changed are indefinable to your glory.
Every blessing from you, if one knew,
Wont contemplate the gratitude close enough or even so properly.


Prostrate, is what not only we do,
But even a tiny stem or a branch.
Bent in submission to their Creator,
Who guides, heals holes from Imaan's stanch.


Neither does the wind blow,
Nor shall the leaves fall
Except by Your command, is all,
That even shall the stars orbit in flow, till You will.




Just another try out poem ;-;
S

tanch- stop flow of wound (V)

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