Pray for me.

In no small way pray for me.

And if you pause for a moment to think of me pray for me.

And pray for a prophet.

And pray for that world.

That silent world of things.

That world of things that each of us carries within.

Deep within.

In the silent crannies of the heart.

A world restrained from without by some intangible

faceless fear, yet clinging from within to the distant hope

for freedom’s flight.

Yes, and pray we don’t wait

till the end of our days

to see we all had the very same fears,

the very same needs.

The same arms stretched out in silent plea

for the drawing near

that didn’t come

because we never quite understood that what we held back
from the others for dread of being so shockingly different was
what made us so incredibly alike all along.

October 1973

Photo Credits Text: Talarico / Calligraphy: Bonazzola / Photography: Bachhuber

Photo Credits Text: Talarico / Calligraphy: DuBosch / Photography: Bachhuber