Pray it forward into daybreaks the inside color of cereal boxes opaque and dreary yet perfectly receptive to bills and scraps of hope once the sugary grains are gone. Pray it forward in line at Tim Hortons for a new dream to enter the fella behind that real food, real wages, and real Earth may all be served every time we order. Pray it forward seven generations down to the deepest tip of the iceberg that goes drag-netting the landfill bottom of a lifeless sea. Drudge up a ghost of a future kid or two to impress our frozen imaginations. Pray it forward on your knees and with devotion please your physiotherapist who spends days in bodies not her own inventing repeated motions of healing. Pray it forward. Pass it on. Remember every precious drop grasped by heart gets squeezed out beyond its keeping.