Glory be to You Christ for these blooming Jacarandas
with ramified leafless branches
pointing up to the clear welkin of this Savanna noon,
their delicate purple flowers scattered
all over the school courtyard,
they stir my memory of a time
at this same place,
the days when I was still little
and I had to cross a stream which was much ordinary
than the brine before me
Thank You Lord for this invisible air
whose existence is a mystery
yon’ what my mind can fathom,
yet its presence is tangible
as long as my heart beats,
even at rate lower than this:
the beat from the choir percussion,
and adrenaline much higher.

But the caprices of my heart,
with a faith so feeble,
distance me from You my Lord.
Have mercy on me oh Christ
and carry me across this brine
lest these days become a poignant memory
that will haunt me till I sleep
Eternal sleep.