I’m praying and I don’t even pray

A prayer is interpreted as a “humble request” to a higher power. It is closely linked to organized religions, but those of us who believe in spirituality only may also invoke whatever power for help or guidance every now and then.

So, I pray…

that I walk through a rose bush on the way to my day-to-day

that the sun shines bright, that the air is warm, and breathing it will be all right.

I pray sometimes that the needle puncturing my skin, injecting the survival fluids in my veins, is pushed in by gentle hands and a reassuring voice telling me everything is okay.

I pray that my gained knowledge in this world so savage will get me through the bumpy  roads of life with minor damage.

I pray my reasonable needs make sense to friends, colleagues, and lovers the same, and that they reciprocate my loyalty and respect every day.

I pray the people of every nation would care more about their fellow human and think of everyone’s best interests with every social decision made.

I pray for peace and understanding among us

I pray I never have to learn the meaning of boredom

I pray my empathy won’t turn into ice and that my cynicism will starve, despite all the reasons I may be given to cry

I pray every month that my emotions won’t eat me alive 

I pray that at the end of the tunnel there really is light

I pray my solitude won’t turn into loneliness

I pray humanity practices more humility and less self-righteousness 

And yes, indeed, I pray for silly things:

like “please let the wine on the shelf be of good grapes”

I pray for my failing memory, I pray for more rainy days, I pray for good flight rates.

I pray for universal common sense.

Though I don’t use the word and will not send prayers to anyone, in my own way, I say a prayer sometimes.