through the overwhelming overlaps of the angel choirs you tell me you prayed for me, for just a moment
i can't type very well right now
i'm having to correct this over and over because nothing but gibberish is coming out
i can't talk properly
i wonder, if you were here, how you'd look at me when i spoke in tongues - not in a pretty, camera recorded singing way. but in a manner that made it clear that only i can understand what's coming out. in a way that's anguished and small, childlike in desperation
i want to pray into your palms, words that can't be translated, and have you still understand the awe, love, and holiness that i'm experiencing
