Spirit who remembers what we have forgotten,
We ask not for more,
but for the clarity to see what is already here.
Dissolve the illusions we inherited—
of worth as output,
of love as approval,
of presence as performance.
Return us to the place beneath the scoreboard,
where the soul was never judged
and every breath was sacred simply because it was real.
We pray not to be seen as exceptional,
but to see again with the eyes of love.
To see ourselves in the one who is aching.
To see the holy spark in the stranger on the sidewalk.
To see the beauty of the moment we forgot to count.
Bless those in quiet suffering—
not with escape,
but with remembrance.
May they feel the soft truth:
they were never behind.
They were only being asked to pause.
Bless the performers. The achievers. The anxious. The invisible.
Bless the ones who feel like they are losing the game.
May they awaken to the truth:
the game was never real.
Let us not try to fix the world before we have loved it.
Let us not try to awaken others before we have slowed enough to hear them.
We do not seek to become new.
We seek to return to the place within us that never forgot.
And from that quiet center—
May our presence be a sanctuary.
May our noticing be an offering.
May our very being become a soft revolution.
Amen.