Reach for the radio’s knob—
      a turn, that’s all it takes;
A million filaments aligning makes
      a tattered noise, a scream of little girls and boys
in Stadiums.

One flick—
and—yet—
      We soon forget:
One turn of one wrist
      And worlds connect.

Reach for it.
What frequency has found his voice at your command,
what winged messenger has come to grasp your hand,
Can you touch this Hermes of the air and feel his pulse and stroke his hair and
      What
            IS
      radio?

If not a million filaments aligning making
      Heroes falling, cities quaking
Empires finding a cure—
      The news today!
A war
      On
crime and
we have
found the
way to
kill them
all and—

One small turn of your praying hands;
A million filaments aligning brings
      You life.
For what is there to pray?