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The Unseen Bloom
Not every blossom greets the sun,
Nor every triumph shouts it's won.
Some flowers bloom in silent grace,
Unseen by crowds, yet touched by faith.
They grow in corners most forget,
Where pain and prayer and love have met.
And though no stage may hold their name,
They burn with soft, eternal flame.
So let them bloom, those quiet souls,
Unpraised by fame, yet deeply whole.
For heaven sees what earth looks past—
The unseen bloom, the ones that last.
Copyright ©
Rowena Velasco
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