I like to read poetry
before I turn off the
light and go to sleep
each night. Last night
I was enjoying a dip
into the collection,
"No Truce With The
Furies" by the late,
Welsh priest and poet,
R. S. Thomas, when
I came across the
following poem which
is entitled, "Nuance."
It's as good an explanation
of our part in the prayer
of the universe that I
have ever read or heard.

With the cathedrals thundering
at him, history proving
him the two-faced god, there were
the few who waited on him
in the small hours, undaunted
by the absence of an echo
to their Amens. Physics' suggestion
is they were not wrong. Reality
is composed of waves and particles
coming at us as the Janus-faced
chooses. We must not despair.
The invisible is yet susceptible
of being inferred. To pray, perhaps, is
to have a part in an infinitesimal deflection.

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