Jesus, the whole world is waiting for you to wake up.
The wisteria have shed their tears,
and the baby thrushes are holding back a laugh
The yellow wildflowers on the hillside, by the roads,
are ready to applaud
Like taking the first bite at a banquet
or asking first, "How are you?"
or inching towards a hug,
writing the first word on a blank page.
Jesus, can you hear me?
Your work is almost done,
that work which has hardly begun.
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