My old friend Andrew

Today I prayed.
I bent down on my knees and perched in the sun.
I want the recipient of this prayer to feel sunlight like this.
That warm engulfing bubble.
My eyes are soaked and saturated to their gooey core.
I close them
for when they’re open, tendrils of honey block my sight.
I close them and see the view from the bottom of a pond.
Those geometric figurines, dancing with the sway of water.
I saw the view of refractive water, tinted by the pinkish glow of the skin on my eyelids.
Today I kneeled down and prayed.
My head bowed and palms together.
catholic cliches from my childhood are reinforcement,
 to strengthen my prayer
for someone who has already sealed their gruesome fate.
 A fate of taut and creaking rope.
The agonizing orbit.
 North, north east, east, southeast.
A pause,
then back around.
Feet due east, northeast, north
just like Huxley said it would be.