I wept for the sea and for blasphemy

There is a smooth stone in my mouth that once belonged in my belly. Its' texture is soft and round, so loving and comforting. I dare not move it around in my mouth too much for it will shatter my teeth. But rest assured, my dear friends, for this small stone is cradled quite comfortably on the centre of my tongue and sheltered from the harsh environment of the outside world. Should I speak? Shall I risk the loss of the pacifying properties of this loonie-sized stone? I wish to speak to God. He is nestled in my mouth, looking in.

Words and letters can mean a lot of things, but none speaks more clearer than the peace of mutual understanding.