What have I done to earn this dawn,
The dew still shining on the lawn?
And yet it comes, as though for me—
A little light, a world to see.
Before I have a word to say,
My breath has welcomed in the day;
Before I count what I must do,
The sky has let its blue come through.
I thank the floor beneath my feet,
The morning cup, its simple heat;
The window with its patch of sun,
That warms me before work’s begun.
I thank the tree that lets me stand
Beneath its shade, with empty hand;
It does not ask what I have made,
Or weigh my worth before its shade.
And all the people who make room
For both my laughter and my gloom—
Who let a silence settle in,
Then leave me space to start again.
How often have I tried to earn
The right to rest at every turn?
As though my place upon this earth
Required a daily proof of worth.
Yet here I am, with much undone,
Still given warmth by this old sun;
Still free to pause beside a flower
And spend, quite uselessly, an hour.
For all the years I got things wrong,
And took the road that ran too long—
I thank the world for room to stray,
And room to find another way.
Dear God, before I ask for more,
Let me sit quietly at this door;
The sparrows have begun their song—
I need not sing to still belong.
And if this thanks can find its way
Into the small things of my day,
May I give others room to grow,
Beyond the little that I know.
Tonight, whatever comes of me,
Whatever I have failed to be,
I’ll thank this world, so wide and deep,
And lay no trophies down to sleep.
For being here—for being me,
Still learning what that self may be—
My thanks, as simple as can be:
For life, and for just letting me.
–Mani