signals_and_signs raze i don't pray to god. i pray to you. last_night i asked you to watch over the ones i'm sure would have been your siblings in spirit if you'd slept on my street. long after everyone had turned in, i found a piece of fallen foliage where no leaf should have been, deep in the heart of the tower that holds what hope i still have. wet and brown and beautiful. this morning, after the first leg of a winter storm has strafed the city, your answer still stands, slick with snow but otherwise intact. it hasn't moved an inch. 221223 what's it to you? who go blather from