Hear the following prayer
in the timbre of gratitude:

I've had enough with all the bags
in which I carry my things,
with bright screens that sting my eyes,
and with the musical strings.

My ears are sore from the machines
that change and amplify the waves;
so bring me the thoughts of poets and
bring me the prayers of saints.

Whisper the wisdom of years gone by,
of life spilled out in the streets.
My heart is weary, the weight of this world
has brought me to my knees.

There's only one thing I ask
for which to dull the pain;
bring me the thoughts of poets and
bring me the prayers of the saints.