The unspoken conversation

Pray for me, brother; There are words stuck behind my tongue That I have carried in my heart, For life can tire the tongue— Because our moments for words are few. The world does not welcome words, brother. I am weary of the heaviness in my eyes, Though no fault has ever been yours, Because I am the creator of my own path. My tired spirit has wept an ocean— An ocean in a desolate land with ripples, Perhaps to guide me through Jordan's stream, Or to lead me in a world of sin and care. Dear brother, pray! I am tired of many 'afters'— I gaze at the stars with a bitter sigh. I wish I could articulate my fear Even with my trembling tongue, Because when I hear, "God is love," It feels like a lie.