The Split That Prays
The Split That Prays by William S. Becker As the lesson starts, it begins, My heart splits clean into two within. One side says, Focus—do not stray , The other whispers, Today’s the day. The prayer will rise, the Creator hears, My chest collapses into tears. Tears for the will that only takes, For every spark the ego breaks. One side counts comfort, time, and gain, Coffee, body, ease, and pain. That’s the will to receive, loud and wise, Selling lies that dress as truth in disguise. The other side is small and thin, A silent knock from deep within. No logic there, no proof, no chart, Just hunger—that’s the point in heart. The will attacks when prayer is near, Floods the mind with doubt and fear. Why these friends? Why this path? Look at your past—look at the math. The heart can’t hold both at once, It breaks beneath competing wants. But in the break a cry is made, Not to receive—but to be saved. No strength to win. No way alone. Just a plea to be overthrown. And that small cry...