Everything is a Prayer

Everything is A Prayer

Depending on how you hear it.

The cursing on the street,

A plea for justice.

The wailing of the suffering,

A request for something better.

In the days of the Tower of Babble,

We all spoke in unison,

So we heard every prayer.

What did we speak then?

How did we speak?

Was it Sanskrit?

Or Gaelic?

Or Chinese?

I believe it was babble:

The cooing of a chubby cheeked baby,

The chirping of a cricket,

The cheerful burbles of a river.

Feel rivers flow through your heart,

And you shall hear the gossip of the Town of Babel:

The flow of a river from Shiva’s locks,

The shhss of mothers calming babies,

The rush of waters over lotus covered feet,

The walk of mothers soothing sleepy babies.

Feel peaks of mountains in your lofty thoughts,

And you shall know the thoughts of the inhabitants of Babel:

Ideas of friendship, love, integrity, honesty, and responsibility.

Feel the fire of the sun in your belly,

And you shall know the inspiration of the Town of Babel:

Pure life, unadulterated, unpremeditated

Feel the winds move your hands and feet,

And you shall know the dance of the Town of Babel:

Babies crawling on all fours,

A gentle sway of the hips while walking,

The up and down motion of a contented belly.