The time of the unspoken prayer BRH, June 2006
We woke to the sound of the breeze on the ground by the window;
We rose to the rhyme of the passing of time on the dial.
As daylight came in it was held for a minute in silence;
Then time carried on and the moment was gone in a smile.
A friend came along and he gave me a song about Jesus;
A brother came by, a Dominican friar in brown.
The muse of the blues gave me something to use for my sorrows;
And it fell into place in the face of the bells of the town.
There was dew on the field in the morning
A song came adrift in the air
And nothing made way for the dawning
Of the time of the unspoken prayer.
Entertain strangers and maybe we entertain angels;
Open the door and much more than we saw may come in.
The fool's on the hill, so who'll be there still in the hollow?
The gift of the flowers is ours if we let it begin.
There was dew on the field in the morning
A song came adrift in the air
And nothing made way for the dawning
Of the time of the unspoken prayer.
Ever since “Everyone’s Gone To The Moon” I’ve had a sneaking admiration for people who can write songs that don’t make sense at all but sound as if they do. This is not one of those songs - it all makes sense to me, and I hope some of it may make sense to you if you reflect on it. It’s about providence, and the way things sometimes happen that you’d have prayed for if you’d been able to imagine them.
Why should a God beyond our understanding of time need to wait until we articulate our prayers before answering them?
