12pm Poem by Paul Elenora

Its dark and night has come
The chats are become few
Its 12am and the morning still new
A wonderful time to commune with God

At the thought of the distant voices
Of songs which she could make nothing of but praises
Certainly from nearby churches
Who observe their friday vigils as rituals

The thought of God having to listen to so much at the same time
She wondered if her silent prayers will get to God
How he has to listen to so much at the same time
Somehow he must be a record
of his own accord
Fear him!