It’s his way of
Renewing each day,
As a fraught spirit settles, &
A fretting heart becomes pliant,
When the mind’s clamors are lessened,
And all of life’s restless fears diminish;
An old man prays in a private place

Being still drawn to something he cannot
Grasp, to someone he cannot forget,
To the One he met as a young boy,
(The One so many blackguard)
Who came to him when
The world seemed
An evil noise, too
Big to be compassed,
Where ugly people sneered
And pilfering hands molded idols…

& though he suffers,
Still, from his sins and foolish choices,
He’s been assured his compass
Is still true
Despite the many storms and wars that
Compassed him in a weary footslog
Through less venerated days…
So he prays in
The face of cynics
With unceasing hope
Grateful that love touched him,
&, that without proof,
Or signs,
He believed
What he heard
With all his might,
In spite of the weeds
That choked his heart
& the logic of naysayers
That so effectively deceived him…

Now each day he prays
For sustenance & soundness,
For the kind of discernment that endures,
For a spirit of thankfulness in all things,
For altruism to defeat his selfishness,
For a faith that moves mountains,
For freedom from anxiety,
For real abiding love,
For wisdom,
Each day
Reassured, too, that
His faith was not in vain,
& each day understanding, with
More discrimination, that all he was
Given once were gifts
That would never be taken,
Despite his rebellions, in search
Of what the system gods had promised

So he prays,
Each day renewed in spirit,
And in all humility grateful that
His fraught heart is always quickened
By an unfathomable love

richard lloyd cederberg
11/12
           richardlloydcederberg.com