A gentle word, right now, in the murmur of gentle breeze would do my hearts rest justice, because in it, would be the silent calm that my mind needs. I am far from that right now. My silent prayer comes with raised hands but I would rather have my feed of the ground for the supernatural power of hovering over this hard time that wants my progress weary of success. Cradle my thoughts so I can dream so that this body that you use for your powers display to get rest. That is what you made night for, because if it was, the sun would never show submission to the darkness that causes confusion. I implore your mercy to just look my direction to remind me now more than ever, that you are alive in me and I in this world for you, cradle my thoughts that I may sleep.
In this very mind, God, you and I toil with my ambitions, looking for means that will exemplify growth and a destination set. Our conversations are persistent prayers that inspire even the smallest of molecules that construct the very fibre of my being. To live and live more is what the subconscious pleads and gently caresses my conscious self with, but that is not an indirect means to keep me awake or in constant torment of what has not come to pass, what success has not come, Father please, cradle my thoughts that I may comfort those who's day like this is still to come.
Dear God, the Vision you've set can only be altered by faith and belief, I do that with gentle vigour in proof of my fighting heat. Cradle these thoughts for I am yours to use.