Lord,
      I give thanks to You for all of this jumble of life, in which
      I am drowning since time immemorial helplessly in dead
                                                                                                           earnest
      concentrated on an endless search for trifles.

      May You be praised for giving me lowly buttons,
      pins, suspenders, eyeglasses, rivers of ink, always
      hospitable blank sheets of paper, transparent covers,
                                                                  folders that are patient,
      waiting.

      Lord, I give thanks to You for syringes with needles thick
                                                                                                     and thin as
      a hair, bandages, all sorts of Band-Aids, the humble
                                                                                       compress, thanks
      for intravenous drips, saline solutions, cannulas and
                                                                                                         above all
      for sleeping pills with names like Roman nymphs

           which are good because they beg, they recall, they take
                                                                                                   the place of
      death.