Let us pray. To our great god of volts
and joules, our bountypatron, genuflex,
burn incense of our thanks, the while he yokes
us with dull cangues, constrictive vexing belts,
and pushes us along the tedious steppes
where lies his manna. Let us jubilate
that at our feet falls all the world, and let
us hide the tears that seek to mold its shape
again from lifeless bits to singing awe.
“If we will venerate your strength, O lord,
do homage to your virtues, may not we
also weave wreaths of stars and breathe the weird
perfume they drop? In this faint respite trust,
else all your mercies rot to cursing dust.”
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