The urge for prayer
Is its best answer
And I am learning
No words

I want to pray
In measured breaths
And rhythmic foot strikes
On the rough surfaces
Of these mountain roads

It is the heart's prayer
I want most
No heart of sentiment
But that fist-sized muscle beating
Tireless in the dark

The stars themselves
Must be part of a heartbeat
Expanding, contracting, bursting outward again
In a frequency beyond our measure
Through space no more empty
Than our own

If you seek
God's image with us
Look for nothing
Still

Copyright © Cy Dillon, 2000.  All Rights Reserved.

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