The Lack

I looked and saw not one
No beads between fingers
No lamps lit and filled
With rose-scented oil.

What I saw before me was as
That first prayer probably
I looked and I perceived
And was filled full.

It was as though (not maybe)
The elements themselves
Sat ready rolling, tumbling
About to be made whole.

Hearing no word or song
Sounds all about, carnival
Whirling, crashing, calling
Strike iron, and ring the bell!

One, three, six, nine, eleven;
Such may be the prayer of Heaven.

1 comment:

  1. Praise God that heaven hears our prayers though they be lacking.

    My favorite line from Screwtape's eighth letter:

    "Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do the Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."


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