Prayer needs a certain quiet within us and around us. This is why it is so difficult to pray in our loud and arrogant days.
I remember a poem given me by G Chulkov, who later became a disciple of Father Alexei Mechev, and who was a friend of Alexander Blok:
I live in the worries of every day
But my heart, beneath their heavy weight,
Lives a life of its own,
Like a miracle of flame.
Hurrying to catch a bus,
Or bending over a book,
I can suddenly hear the murmur of fire
And I close my eyes.
Perhaps in our days, prayer does live "under a heavy weight."