An Officious Offering

If, perhaps, I would choose
To be brazen enough
To view prayer
As hope unleashed,
Out of range

But begging for want,
And I close my eyes
To curse the skies
For all I say
Drifts and

Goes astray,
As if hope expressed
Is only recessed
With a strong condemnation
Of some Superior Being

That perhaps shows that
Whomever is in charge
It is I that shall not win;
Perhaps
Punished for my flippant manor

To the Gods to excoriate.
If prayer is hope,
Then
What happens to what one seeks not
But the Gods cry forth

An overabundance to the point
Of being officious
When all I want,
All I desire,
All I ask,

All I seek,
Is for one day of joy
Free from pain-
For it is not life I disdain
Nor my station is such,

But, at times,
It is all
Just
Too much.