How convenient of me
to brush aside explicit duties
handwaving away laborious letter
in favour of spirit

When every act and breath is worship and love
then prayers seem vulgar, fucking
unbecoming

But God is only ever found in the down-dirty details, the blue-collar slog
and not in the seductions of sloth, nor flights of fancy, the comfortable shirking of duties

“Evening prayers in the desert” by Otto Pilny