Prayer begins in us the restoration of the divine image, in all its hiddenness and wonder. It brings us closer to the "region of likeness" and every prayer is an act of letting the old self go. It involves "dying". The grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies. Dead, it is destined to bear much fruit.
Fold your wings, my soul,
those wings you had spread wide to soar
to the terrestrial peaks where light is
most ardent: it is for you to simply waith
the descent of the Fire —
supposing it to be willing to take possession of you.