Speak the piece slowly, with ease, and love's grace:
These are the words you spoke to me early
In the morning light as we prayed; to face
My troubled past with a slothful, burly,
Cumbersome, grandma's snail like pace! Would that
You had all learned to speak in livelier
Norms than the lumberjack, who helps night bats
Not at all when he snores; for his snores were
Not enough to see by the sonar sight
Employed by those furry little mammals!
Yet I, like the babbling brook would light
My prayers with a sheet of foam! Strong hulls
Only could take the stream of my design!
For I pray with great need, you do but pine.
The Swift Flowing Prayer, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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