In a world that teaches
me first, me only, me always,
prayer is a quiet rebellion.
It begins with a bow,
a loosening of the fist
that clutches at control.
It dares to whisper:
I am not the center.
I am not the crown of all things.
I am a thread in the tapestry,
a note in the chorus,
a servant of something vast.
Something holy.
Prayer is an act of defiance
against the tyranny of ego,
against the hunger that never fills.
It topples the empire of the small self
and builds, stone by stone,
a sanctuary for all beings.
In prayer, we betray the myth of isolation.
We kneel not in defeat,
but in devotion and love.
Prayer is rebellion,
the most radical kind,
for it wages war not on others,
but on the walls within,
until only openness remains.
Through the power of prayer,
we can align ourselves with life and light itself. What a miracle.
We can call for the aid
of both ancient and recent Masters,
Beyond space and time.
Their luminous wisdom and boundless
compassion can touch our hearts as intimately as the Sun’s warmth opens flowers in the morning mist.
Prayer is not just mere words.
It is the trembling of the soul reaching for our wholeness, a candle lit in the dark, a river bending toward the ocean.
Prayer is tantra and transformation.
-M
Ask The Mountains 