It's not a prayer, more a question, Oh God, where are you?
It's as though every day is your birthday
and I bring a bouquet of marigolds and long to place them at the feet of your soul.
Then I wait for you to arrive in a rainstorm of light.
When you don't it's like someone stole the slingshot that would shoot you back to breath and earth
and now you drift along a heavenly prairie without sleep.
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