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Poem

Prayer is often self desire,
to heal my guilt from my desire.

So much pity breeds entire
sessions meant to cleanse my fire.

Then I think its good for me to
rest my mind and honour faith 
for what its worth.

To teach me how to serve another,
Obedience to stop my mind
from solving problems I might find. 

I stopped so many years ago, 
but never realised what was true.

The message from the books of men
distorted by the science then.

Then I listened to myself,
the prayer then starts to make some sense.
I practice pausing, finding joy,
the moments in between.

I practice loving those that suffer,
Letting go annoyance.
Letting go my needs.
Until I break and shout for life
my senses unfulfilled
I feel the shame again

And so it dawns that prayer deludes
It lies to me, denies my self
for others to be granted time while I deny mine.
Its not entirely a waste of time
I simplified, to remember lines:

Practicing compassion 
Practicing reducing venting.
And anything that makes me wait
Unfair proportions to my needs
And that just works, I've found the truth
to keeping joy in line.

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