I call to Kairos, great god of opportunity,
youngest son of thundering Zeus, yours is the moment seized,
the chance swiftly taken; yours is the eye that sees
where luck may land, the arrow loosed, the race well-run.
Beautiful Kairos, fair of face, you appear without warning
and must be grasped, swift and sure, for in an instant
you are gone. We cannot summon you, O god,
or tell where you may go, but only watch for you
with care and hope to know you when you come–
a flash of certainty, a spark that may ignite a flame
or may be lost to darkness. I pray to you,
O Kairos, that when you come I may not hesitate.