What if there was never another voice
On the other end of that wire connected to a wall
In a building - to a wire, to a pole, to an epicenter
Of conversations lost, and crackling static
The buzz and fractured whispers of another dying world
What if that voice had no consistent source
A wavering mass of atomic particles, science
A fading wisp of ethereal stature, belief
Existence defined by the warmth of breathe
Or the density of a pulsing soul
No matter, just a question of substance
Substance, a perspective and
Perspective, merely a thought
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