I can hear your whispered prayers,
Out here in the void.
Pleas to an absent creator,
Who never talks back,
Never existed in the first place.
Conjured up by the dead.
Are thoughts & prayers,
Meant to be a secret?
Or…
Does it scare you,
To know us cryptids are listening?
What is your devotion worth?
When your faith is gone,
Eroded by reason…
Where will you find strength,
Knowing such prayers –
Are empty?
Holding no value,
Outside what you place upon them.
I’ll listen to your prayers,
Little ones.
Even the smallest,
Must be heard.
I’m listening.
I can hear your whispered prayers.
