From Grass to Grace

From grass to grace — a quiet anthem I whisper in the dark, a song stitched in sweat, written beneath sleepless moons. It may take a while, but what’s meant will bloom — not in haste, but in heaven’s time. Each drop of sweat, a seed of tomorrow. Each late night, a prayer folded in effort. And these tears — they are not just water, but sacred, a ladder built of pain and persistence, rising with every silent cry. I’ve climbed without crushing, built without breaking, and no shadow of karma trails me. This, this longing dressed as prayer, will echo in the heavens — and it will be heard.