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Believe it or else, beauty and truth fans, it's time for a prayer for YOU. A prayer to end all
prayers. A prayer for everything you've never asked for before, because you weren't sure you
deserved it. A special, no-nonsense, hype-free prayer exclusively for you --in the most
unselfish tone of voice I've ever mustered.
Ready?
I am starting to pray right now to the God of Gods, the God beyond all Gods, the
Girlfriend of God, the Teacher of God, the Goddess who invented God, and what I pray is:
Oh Goddess Who Never Kills But Only Changes:
I pray that my exuberant, suave, and accidental words might move You to unleash
ferocious blessings on all the beauty and truth fans who've tuned in.
I pray that You'll grant them what they don't even know they want. Not just the boons
they think they need but everything they've been afraid to even imagine or wish for.
Oh Goddess, You Wealthy Anarchist Burning Heaven to the Ground
The divine chameleons out there in sacred space don't even know they're crazy. Please use Your blinding magic to
help them see they're all wildly creative geniuses too big for
their own bodies.
Guide them to realize that they're all completely different from what they think they are and more exciting
than they can possibly imagine.
And make it immoral, illegal, irrelevant, unpatriotic and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or
anything that's no good for them.
Oh Goddess You Sly Universal Virus with No Fucking Opinion:
I beg that You help all the personal growth-addicts that are reading this prayer to be disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation not
destruction.
I pray that You teach them the difference between self-destructive self-control and
liberating self-control.
Awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it's impossible to do the totally
right thing. Arouse the Wild Woman within them--even if they're men.
Give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting
problems.
And oh Goddess You Pregnant Criminal Who Scorns All Mediocre Longing:
Inspire all the original sinners out there to love their enemies in case their friends turn
out to be jerks.
Provoke them to throwaway things that make them believe they're better than everyone
else.
Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they can't do and don't have.
Most of all, brainwash them with Your freedom, so that they never love their own pain
more than anyone else's pain.
Oh Goddess, you Psychedelic Mushroom Cloud at the Center of All Our Brains:
These budding Demeters and Innanas and Buddhas and Christs deserve everything they
need and much much more.
Please arrange for a racehorse to be named after them, or a boulevard or river or
thousand-year-old storm on another planet.
Help them win the battle against time, and learn to talk the language of the
most scientific angels, and master the zen of temper tantrums, and get a fabulous mommy and
daddy in their next incarnation.
Teach them to push their own buttons and unbreak their own hearts and right their own
wrongs and sing their own songs and be their own wives and save their own lives.
Bless them with lucid dreams while they're wide awake and solar energy-operated sex toys
that work in the dark and a vacuum cleaner for their magic carpet and a knack for avoiding
other people's hells and a secret admirer who's not a psychotic stalker and a thousand masks
that all fit their face perfectly and their own 900 number so that everyone has to pay to talk
to them.
Oh Goddess, you Dumb Fast Infinitely Wide River of Electricity, You Smart Slow
Smoldering Lump of Angel Fat Left Over from the Big Bang, You Ghostly Snake Who Loves
Inventive Tragedy and Sophisticated Superstition, You Cool Furnace That Incinerates the Props
of Our Nightmares Much Too Slowly, You Creator of Happy Purgatories Where Impeccably
Unironic Apocalypse Salesmen Preach Christian Satanism and Rosicrucian Baseball Players from
the Middle Ages Dream Politically Cracked Dreams That Reveal the News in More Exact
Metaphors Than Any Newspaper:
I pray that You provide all the global village idiots that are reading this prayer with a
license to bend all laws, rules, and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love.
Show them how to purge themselves of the wishy-washy wishes that keep them distracted
from their divine desires.
And teach them that they can have anything they want if they'll only ask for it in an
unselfish tone of voice.
Oh Goddess Who Gives Us So Much Love and Pain Together That Our Morality is Always on
the Verge of Collapsing:
I beg You to cast a spell to nullify all bad spells that have ever been cast on all the
beautiful love geniuses out there.
Remove, banish, annihilate, and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them no
matter how long they've suffered from it, and even if they've grown accustomed or addicted
to its ugly companionship.
Conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if
they're ever about to act in such a way that would attract another hex or plague or voodoo
into their lives.
And now, dear God of Gods, God Beyond All Gods, Sister Lover of God, Mother of God,
Goddess who invented God:
I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that in these mysterious
moments You have impregnated the dream glands of all the beauty and truth fans out there with the most
compassionate lust and smartest love You can imagine.
And if there is anything I've forgotten which will help their cause, please flash it into my
imagination in the coming days and months and decades, and motivate me to perform any
tricks or carry out any project that will encourage an abundant flow of sweaty creativity to
flow through them, inspiring them to become more wildly disciplined, erotically feminist,
aggressively sensitive, demonically compassionate, ironically sincere, lyrically logical, insanely
poise, orgiastic ally lucid, macho feminist.
Amen. Awomen. Ommmmmmm and halle-fucking-lujah.
There you have it, beauty and truth fans. A personalized prayer just for you. A prayer
that'll probably come true simply because you didn't even ask for it.
You may now kiss yourself on your own lips.
--Rob Brezny
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