In the quiet corners of your mind,
Where whispers mold the soul’s clay,
Pray as you can, not as you can’t,
In your own form, in your own way.

Let not the heavy chains of doubt
Snare the flight of your weary heart.
Embrace each whispered, hopeful shout,
From scripted lines dare to depart.

For prayer is not a sculpted stone,
Nor bound by iron creeds that blind,
But a river flowing from the bone
To the ocean vast of the divine mind.

Seek not the perfect words to sing,
That fit like keys in locks so tight.
Prayer is a bird on gentle wing,
Coursing through the soft veils of night.

Each stuttered breath, each silent tear,
A testament to the battles fought.
In the echo of our deepest fear,
Lies the purest prayer, divinely wrought.

So let your spirit, unrestrained,
Dance to the rhythm of your light.
Pray as you can, unchained,
For every broken word is right.

April 15, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop