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
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).