Prayer. What an
Impractical practice,
Imagining undetectable
Entities with attributes
That only you can gift
To them who soon then
Slip 'tween the slats of
The predicates of knowledge,
And that belief you gave,
Which you trust will
Rebound to relieve
Your wounds and woes
Or so you chose to choose.
Organise or glaze on over
That mental matrix kept,
Cherished, safe in that safe
Deep among your mind's
Folds, not much different
From the thought pot of
All who are damned like
Faust to share our sere air.
Fill every gap and crack
You see in your neighbour
Or! Mercy! In thyself…
Become one of your
Own captive wights!
Trust indeed a robust ghost
O'er the insulated shade, the
The visions arcane of a
Soul, wherein you can creep,
Hide, warm, inside a shell
That, while from Hell you're
Hid, you know you're never
More than an Augenblick from
The home of your ghost, a
Shelter that moves with you,
For the cost of priceless
Belief that creeps through
Your every artery and vein
Until it's conquered you,
And all of your all too
Conscious Arctic dreams.
That freedom at your core?
It has no chance anymore.
Independence won't return
But is it not truly all the same?
As long as you,
Your every part,
Is sheltered safe, and pain,
Life's surest friend and guide,
Is kept at pragmatic bay,
Until needed afar and away
Until our suffering, moans,
And the cries of the newly
Dead, their clarion calls
Both motivate and lash
To speed those who carry
The solution, our very
Salvation, the Future's
Key to a down-filled
Well earned destiny.…
