All the world prays.
Whenever wherever for whatever.
The prayers ascend through clouds past worlds even stars.
Till they fall. They fall onto an abandoned side street.
There's an old 1960's phone booth there.
Slightly bent over from when a truck backed into it.
The phone is ringing.
These are prayers.
The rings.
Millions Billions.
Ringing.
They're all recorded, but not directly answered.
Never in the way we expect.
Amen.
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