Liege Lord of my love, all naught I rate my minuscule wit
In want of a matching mind to well prostrate homage pay
To that solemn duty by high heavens lent,
That cherished vocation of my fleeting day.
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who are you praying to? who are you addressing? you? who are you praying to? you...ideal you? your mother? your life giver? who are you addressing? a smudgy mirror? with a frenzied hand? my grandmother had a little sign in her kitchen that said...don't take life so seriously...you'll never get out alive anyway! she skinned live rattlesnakes for fun when she was a kid!