The perfect prayer

I sit cross-legged,

My hands in prayer.

From my practice sweat glistens on my face.

My thoughts press in but I let them be.

On by, again and again, they race.

There’s something to say, I feel it inside.

I search for reasons, for words to be there.

My mind bursts with what I want from the Goddess, from the Universe,

but for now that’s not the message my soul bears.

I so want to feel something,

to say the perfect prayer,

and then there in the dark, I’m hit.

“Thank you,” I utter. All is still. My heart swells.

And that’s enough. I know those words were it.