Prayers Sometimes all we have left are prayers to God. Situations escape from our grasps, And we are left physically hopeless. The hope lies within our words, Which are carried by the wind to the unknown. Maybe they enter someone else’s mind, Or land in a pile of prayers, That mercilessly stack in front of God. They sit, waiting to be answered right away, In time, or never. The pleasure is not ours to know. I have nothing left besides these words I speak to you, And I hope you get them in due time.
