this prayer is a racket.
words with shoes on,
lips rambling along
shuffling onward as if a stumble-dance.
yet there is a background of 'humble mind' playing.
there is broadcast of people sounds,
as if they know the words.
little peeps of emotion,
creeping between lines.
but then, deep sighs
this is phantasmagoric,
as if water birds diving for diner are passing by.
just the body-heat generated by the group dynamic
is more the subtle substance of a bus-stop cover station.
but the racket itself,
is like a species that cackles.
it's not fingernails against a blackboard bad
but it is in less unison than a hen house in chatter.
it's like a group free-fall's discovery
that there are not enough parachutes to go around.
oh it's all in earnestness,
but weepy.
like if icebergs appear to be crying
because it is an exceptionally hot day.
it's like panic,
dressed up as secret service agents,
all gathered together
but looking anonymous as a crowd.
this must be an off off-broadway show's first night
and rehearsals have not gone well, up to now.
I am sure there is an authentic cause for all of this,
a common theme
beyond a fear reaction to what god knows.
but 'make it go away'
is a rough translation as to what this is about,
is really not addressing the moment.
prayer like this is an audience response
as if god is putting on a show.
advanced sales always run deep in tradition.
everybody wishes they had better seats.
so when does worship like this
look in the mirror and realize
prayer is an inner dialogue
with the god within.
that self of source,
in a language base of their own emotional making.
how can one be,
by their own divinity?
the theater of their heart
has no audience,
without full and complete participation . . .
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