Not every prayer is a verse spoken aloud with steady hands. Some come through a single inhale held long enough to keep you from breaking. Some are the quiet glance upward when no words form. Some are tears you don’t explain...
It didn’t disappear. It just went quiet so I could listen better. Once, it spoke in absolutes— structured, certain, memorized. Now, it whispers between my questions, more...
I don’t want to optimize everything. I don’t want to automate what makes me feel. I want to burn my fingers on things that matter. Say...