The black granite decked in flowers
Smiles through the camphor flames,
Stone’s smile meant for flesh’s eyes
Eagerly waiting for a miracle or two.

Do not focus light on lights and miss
A miracle of sleeping God in sanctum
With the smile intact on His sleeping
Says a woman counting acts of faith.

Woman is flesh , a mouth in miracle.
Granite sleeps in flowers of camphor.
The flame is lit in our common chests
A fragrance of love, a miracle of faith.

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