Prayer
I see the Sky clasp cymbals of the Sun,
I see the Sky clasp tambourine of the Moon,
The heads of the Stars, as states and nations
tastefully lift to you;
States and nations of a people molded from you, by you.
Let Vices, Menaces, Diseases, Doubts, Evil, and Fear
suffer pulsatile bleeding
till their bosom embraces passions of exsanguination.
Reinstate Eden again.
The world sinks, going off its rockers,
embracing infinite layers of glacial snowfall;
its offsprings are untethering their touch,
they are enthroning their torches and bliss on butterfingers.
Father, Earth's first love;
The Midwife of all things visible and invisible.
Birth Heaven’s values and Virtues’ thrones
that live around your sea, upon Earth,
once again, like divine rareborns
and narrations of highborns that never strolled the planets.
Recuperate our clays.
Renovate our souls.
Revive our spirits.
Father, Souls’ first friend,
If you pleasure,
I know you would speedily manifest these, suddenly;
I have tasted you in Light when you yearned it born,
Luminosity, Stars, Lightning, Sun, and Moon—
the ancient bloodlines of your yearning were born,
along with souls renewed in clay.
When you craved sand— Earth,
while the world was perfectly water and air,
the pleasure of your yearning yielded Sand’s—Earth’s birth;
by you infinite puffs of mortality,
ever fair and unique were birthed.
This made Earth a mother, and you her spouse;
this graces her each day,
to echo fertility, love, dimension, perception, and vitality.
I know if you would please,
that today these reoccur,
they are bound to happen today,
even if what is left of time to wrap up this date,
is sixty out of one thousand four hundred and forty
or one out of eighty-sixing thousand four hundred
Please Father, Friend, and Midwife, pleasure this today.