Before the Object
Not in the manner of anarchists
Screaming curses at some World Bank limousine,
Rather, the silent projection of thoughts into space time,
Unsure, wondering . . . is anyone there?
The Object of this enterprise
May have preferences,
May prefer to be approached
In a manner set down by Itself,
There are those who believe
That the Object Itself has composed a book
Containing prayers, Psalms,
It may be a good idea to try those,
Their beauty, divine or otherwise,
Will at least please the supplicant.
There is evidence
That the Object is desirous of worship,
So it may behoove the communicant
To include a little praise,
Sweeten the offering,
Erring on the side of hyperbole is recommended.
Hat? No hat?
Beard? No beard?
Please check the local rules,
The Object may be a stickler for details.
A little grace
Is never out of place,
So any such enterprise,
Directed at the Object or mere humans,
Should begin with a sincere expression of gratitude
For benefits already accrued,
But take heed, you cosmic wanderers,
Your fellows may be simple prey
To your machinations,
But the Object, if attentive,
Certainly knows your heart better than you do,
Be sure to express only genuine appreciation.
Prayer comes to the lips of some
Who find themselves about to burst with love
For the Object of their devotion,
Others wish to petition the void
With an eye to some benefit,
By way of leaving no stone unturned
In their search for earthly happiness.
Myself, I choose not to pray,
Not wishing to draw attention to myself,
For fear, not so much of judgment,
But of indifference.