A thousand words
Would still fall short—
For the war in you
Is wordless fire.

But even in this noise,
Your soul is whispering:
“Peace… please, peace.”

You’re not asking for perfection.
You’re not demanding answers.
You just want stillness—
A quiet that says:
"I know He’s here."

And beloved,
That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom.

That’s worship
In the middle of weeping.