In the heart of Fatima, beneath an azure dome, A tale spun of faith, where miracles roamed. A story profound, in the annals it thrives, Of the sun dancing in the midday skies.
A trio of children, tending their sheep, Whispered prayers, promises to keep. Blessed Mother appeared, in radiance divine, Her words wove a prophecy, a celestial sign.
“Return here,” she said, “on the month’s thirteenth day, A miracle awaits, the sun’s fiery ballet.” Her message echoed, whispers in the breeze, Carried far and wide, beyond the seas.
An assembly gathered, in the rain they stood, Hearts beating as one, in quiet brotherhood. Skeptics, believers, united by curiosity, Stared at the heavens, in collective humility.
Then, a wonder emerged, from behind the cloud’s veil, The sun danced and spun, a cosmic tale. It swirled in colors, a celestial carousel, An ethereal spectacle, no words could tell.
It plunged toward the earth, in a fiery descent, A blaze of glory, a divine testament. Fear gripped the hearts, a collective gasp, As they beheld the sun, in their mortal clasp.
Then, as if by magic, it returned to its place, Leaving no trace, of its daring chase. The drenched earth dried, as if by design, A testament to the miracle, a holy sign.
In the miracle of Fatima, a lesson we glean, Invisible threads connect the unseen. Faith and science, in an eternal dance, In the heart of the mystery, we find our chance.
For in the dance of the sun, and the rhythm of the rain, In the whispers of the wind, and the pulse of the vein, In every miracle, big or small, We find the Greatest Miracle of All.