This is my prayer
A simple silent gift
Both for myself
As also to share, with those who wish to share
It is a non-religious prayer
Because, whilst I am a man of faith
I am not a man of religion
I have no touchstone to god, except my god within
The sky is of many greys
Rolled into clouds, calmly overlapping
The trees are of many, many greens
From the foreground, to the backdrop merging
I pray that these various colours can be seen
That with the differentiation
We can engage, admire, love
Love the complexity of all our visions
The complication of prayer
Comes with the easements, with the corners
Of the wooden barns, of Walt Whitman’s way
Places, where I have never felt truly able to go
