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~A different sort of prayer...
This world is too close for comfort,
But too dear to ever release;
We only leave it, kicking and screaming-
Unless we crave for an instant peace.
Unrounded world, all full of rough spots;
Torturing us till the bitter end;
But what else is there beside you-
And what else, could we apprehend?
World, that hangs on the thin thread of time,
In space, where the suns all are singing,
Please hold us close, to your milky bosom;
And then gather us in, to your being.
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