zon / dag

Here I am, O most sweet Mama, prostrate before you. 

Today is the first day of the month of May, sacred to you, in which all your children want to offer you their little flowers to prove to you their love, and to bind your love to loving them. 

And I see you descending from the celestial Fatherland, attended by cohorts of angels, to receive the beautiful roses, the humble violets, the chaste lilies of your children, giving them your smiles of love, your graces and blessings in return.

And pressing the gifts of your children to your maternal womb, you bring them to Heaven, to keep them as pledges and crowns for the moment of their death.

Celestial Mama, 

in the midst of many, I - who am the littlest, the neediest of your children - want to come up onto your maternal lap, to bring you, not flowers and roses, but a sun every day. 

But my Mama must help her child, giving me your lessons of Heaven, to teach me how to form these divine suns, in order to give you the most beautiful homage and the most pure love. 

Dear Mama, you have understood what your child wants: I want you to teach me how to live from the Divine Will. And I, transforming my acts and all of myself into Divine Will according to your teachings, will bring to your lap every day, all my acts changed into suns. 

[bron]