The things I say when I pray for you
are the realest things you’ve never heard me say;
the things I proclaim when I rebuke the things of you
are the most forthright sentences that’ve ever come out of my mouth.
But when I speak to you, I say useless things,
because the realest things are left unsaid, only said in my prayers.

When I proclaim truths on you, when I proclaim truths about you,
I, myself, can’t comprehend what I’m saying;
I just let my mind be guided and directed.
But the words spoken and prayed, they never leave my secrecy.

Then again, I won’t let you in this close,
because you, yourself, are closed in;
you are closed in and your exterior is as rough to the touch as sand paper,
and you won’t open yourself up to the things I pray when I pray for you.
You won’t expose yourself to certain truths that I know,
more than you do, about you; you don’t want to.

You think they’re irrelevant, the revelations I receive,
you don’t want to hear them. But if you do,
you won’t acknowledge them; you don’t want to.
How then can I speak my mind about issues if I’m so afraid that it’ll make you blue?

How pointless it is, to pray for you but to not be able to share words of encouragement
about issues that you don’t want to acknowledge;
to not be able to walk with you through them.
I restrain my words and end up babbling about nonsense
each time you pick up the phone; two to three to four hours wasted
on arguing who has better spiritual discernment.

I don’t want it to be this way, I want to pray
out loud with you, and not be afraid of your judgement.
I want my words of wisdom to flow out naturally,
because, truly, I’m tired of cutting edges in the manners I try to not offend you.

I know you’ve got resentment;
please don’t look at me like this, seek to see my true identity.
I’m a light, I shine bright and cast out the darkness
with the light that lives in me.
I’m a warrior of love and an ambassador of the beacon of hope
that this world has yet to recognize.

And you’re just like me, co-heirs in this heritage;
so why must we go to war against each other like this?
Why must we let our pride get in the way of fruitful discussions?
This is not the right battle, this is not what we’re supposed to do.

Our battle isn’t against flesh and blood,
that is why I still pray for you.
I hope you’ll see me the way he sees me; precious and valuable.
But above all, I pray that one day I’ll be able to say
the realest things and proclaim the most forthright sentences
without being afraid of you.