I would have knelt

long, wresting with you, wearing

you down.  Hear my prayer, Lord, hear

my prayer.  As though you were deaf, myriads

of mortals have kept up their shrill

cry, explaining your silence by

their infirmness.

It begins to appear

this is not what prayer is about.

It is an annihilation of difference,

the consciousness of myself in you,

and you in me.

R S Thomas (1913-2000).