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50 The Lord’s Prayer Understand how the Lord must feel, infinite power in each deathless hand to deal with all our importunings, pleas for change, tendered on bended knees. You too would hesitate to tamper with creation, and defer to fate. Kill off the tyrant—two sprout from his blood. Dam with a commandment the raging flood: soon, the backed-up water blackens, mosquitoes dip their quills, publish widespread ills. To start to edit means never to quit but to enter the flux of process, its heave, clever backflips, swirl. Better to sit and wait—not skim but neither wrench the text with overreading. And pray over us like Him. ...

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