Sometimes I pray with all my soul, To the God I believe in, Knowing that those prayers are futile, But my heart is a vagabond who gives its whole, For those prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while. I wish for it, I pray for it, Even when I know I wonβt get it. Yet my heart gets hauled towards only those wishes, Which I know are futile, The prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while. So I permit my heart to employ these prayers, And talk to the God I believe in. I let Him only listen and let my heart free, Knowing that its a prisoner who can never be set free. When I say these prayers, There is a ease of pain, sense of relief. Knowing these feelings will leave, My adamant heart still prays which is futile, The prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while. At times I sense that I am addicted to these prayers, These futile prayers coax me towards them, Make my heart a wayfarer who prays, Only the prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while.
to those unanswered wishes, the ones which we know can never be answered...yet we pray....