Prayer
A thirstless, prayerless soul, soon slowly dehydrates.
At first there is no notice, but as purer water taints,
the presence of our Lord is quenched, His image seems more faint.
Others see it bye the bye, change not concealed from passing eye,
but the bearer is unaware, senses slowly running dry.
At last the thirst produces pain, a longing for the living rain,
to quench again this dry soul’s lips, again to meet soul’s thirst,
a pant that longs for quiet waters in dusty, parched terrain.
First, bowing knee must begin to fill the belly-centred being,
then out of which new waters flow, restoring life’s first meaning.
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