Why is it you call me to discover a truth you know but cannot share?

My prayers fell on your ears, like single drops in a rainstorm.

I listened for your answer, my eyes open, my body still, my breath paused, expectant, you lay silent, or when you spoke you spoke with the voice of the hum of living.

Why is it you call me to discover a truth you know but cannot share?

Your words, luminous, silently remain like glittering sand, shifting with each edition. I don’t know what you meant by that. I called you to interpret for me. You lay silent, watching, waiting.