Because you thought you couldn't carve
A chip from your busy block of time away to pray,
You asked another timeless saint to do it for you.

Indulging your whim, she could have rustled up
A few Their Fathers, hailed a couple Love,
Conjured up an Apostle's Creed, or two.
But, they never would have believed it;
Not even in Nicea.
These prayers by proxy are always someone else's words;
Not yours, not hers, not what you'd mean to say.

You only, you only have to let
Being become you.
Loving, the pure, simple, joyous essence of living,
Is your prayer, Sarah:
Eternal communion with the silent lives
Of all Her other wondrous creations.

It will suffice.