Saturday, 27 July 2013

Bus note 64

       Vague
       clouds.
       Coldness.
Morning prayers, week one:
       handed; heart; 
       eat this bread;
       broke; splendour.
Shift the world clutter
out from here
        [Striking the breast,
        exit clumsily].    

2 comments:

  1. I do like a drab prayer, the only kind that would feel real at present.

    And this is indeed a fine one, though in my current feeble condition I'd be loth to give it a try for fear of cracking a rib. Possibly two.

    (Shall be leaving the spiritual vehemence to you young and hearty ones henceforth... perforce.)

    But the exit bit, now "at this stage of the game" -- odd expression really -- that part of the liturgy might prove less bother.

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  2. Praying daily, going over the same words, sometimes there's the spiritual vehemence, mostly feeling little more than the pull of a duty.

    Here's a prayer I've been hearing for as long as I can remember.

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