If you want nothing for yourself,
Prayer is hard, If you bring everything Into the Divine yard, But everything Is the play of light Of feelings and demands, Of day and night, And prayer itself Its expression and bent The nature of yearning An organizing intent For life and for honor, Wealth and peace, Children and joy, Fullness and release, These are the horses Upon which ride Wisdom and holiness Side by side, These are the language Of the kindness of God, And prayer is their soul And clearest facade, And this spirit That drives the soul Is itself the base, The construct of the whole, Like breath and food, Building, growing, Health, the clean snowing, And then prayer enters the heart And you descend from the sky, Where there is no desire, No impulse to cry, But you pour out your heart Like a servant pouring out Water, seeking favor, Life, without a doubt Seeking health of the body, Light of the plane Whose kindness here Is earth-churning rain.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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