A Call To Prayer

I’ve been trying to write all night–ranting and raving, mostly–and the words don’t want to come. So, I’ll start the same way a friend of mine always starts… I’m not going to promise anything good, but, let’s say, it’ll be something cathartic for me. To be said aloud, southern-preacher style. And that means with passion and with prayer…

My People. My Beloved People.

I know you. I know you because I am you–wrapped in crystal and touched by grace I know you. You hope for a better tomorrow–for a time when all people are free, when all might lift their eyes from the clay and rejoice at the coming of the stars. You, you beautiful people. You careless, smiling, beautiful people. The Gods are many and they are good. Every particle is drunk with the presence of their love, and as we breathe we too become drunk on the love of the Limitless Multitudes. The sun shines upon our skin and and the sun shines upon the mountain tops. Pray, my people, pray.

Pray for the coming dawn. Pray for the returning night. Pray for laughter and children and sunsets and seagulls. Pray until the tears come, O my people. Pray until your words become the pulsing of your heart and the pounding of your feet, pray until you pray in dance and rapture and radiance.

My People! Put down your tools and raise your hands to the sky. Somewhere we have lost it. We have lost it, that spark of life and breath and joy that is the heart of our call to the hearth of Nature. Somewhere amongst our dreaming we have fallen into hard times and, in falling, have forgotten to pray. Pray! Pray for Light and Love and Life! Do not forget to Pray, for Prayer is the song of the saints and of the stars. The Planets Pray! The Elements Pray! The Seasons Pray! The People Pray!

Who are we to clutch at power? Who are we to lift guns and kill each other? Who are we to oppress our sisters? Who are we to forget our downtrodden brothers? We are ALL the children of Her mysteries, and yet we have forgotten. We have forgotten the spark. We have forgotten love. We have forgotten to pray.

Pray! Get down on your knees and sing to the angels! This is not a debasing, a belittling–it is an acknowledgment that we, too, must gaze in awe and, in gazing, lose ourselves and our petty little lives and take up the prayer of the universe. Pray!

(Or something like that… It sounded better in my head, complete with Killers soundtrack: “Are we human, or are we dancer?”)

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About John Harness
John Harness is an artist and educator in Chicago. He is a member of Socialist Alternative and the Klingon Language Institute. He writes about political activism and roleplaying games.

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