Half a Prayer It wasn’t a full prayer. Didn’t have structure. Didn’t rise clean. It broke in the middle like a sentence that forgot where it was going. Half a prayer is what happens when belief is still breathing but barely. I didn’t kneel. Didn’t fold my hands. Didn’t close my eyes like the pictures say. I just whispered into the dark like it might answer back. Not even words, really. Fragments. A name. A sigh. A maybe. Half a prayer sounds like someone trying not to disappear while asking not to be saved too loudly. Because hope can feel dangerous when you’ve watched it break before. So I didn’t ask for everything. Didn’t dare reach that far. Just asked for enough. Enough strength to get through morning. Enough mercy to outlast the memory. Enough light to see one step ahead and not panic. And somewhere between the silence and the almost something shifted. Not thunder. Not angels. Not certainty. Just a small warmth in the hollow place where fear used to echo louder. Half a prayer won’t make headlines. But sometimes it’s the bravest thing a tired heart can give. And maybe God has always understood a truth we forget: You don’t need perfect faith to be heard. Sometimes half a prayer is still fully seen. By Jason Strickland

Plants to Planets. From Plants to Planets We are all connected By a Divine energy some say cant be detected Let us think of the flowers, the birds and the bees The air in our lungs provided by trees Ponds to lakes, rivers to seas All which exists inside them with ease The depth in our eyes the contours of our face The twinkling of stars amongst Planets in space In the beauty of us in all that we love Heaven is on earth as below so above Collective the energy which keeps us together As true is God's Love is ours forever ❤️