You are the master of the words,
You could use them to gain anything, to play any game and win.
But you treat them with respect and guide them down beautiful paths they have never walked before,
And they follow you willingly.
Your words are powerful, each one written with the utmost care.
They tell me the truth, your fears and dreams,
They tell me what should, and still could be.
Though they tell of how I hurt you,
Your words are still beautiful to me.
More wonderful still are your silent words,
Which I am beginning to understand and already love.
They calm me like the breeze off the sea,
And bring a smile to my face when the world is too much.
And what can I say of the words that I said,
I know they were never enough.
How can they be, if they never left me?
My best word to you was trust, not love, it should have been.
If my words were written they were for someone else,
If they were spoken they were about me, him to.
If they were sung they were about Jesus and God,
If you couldn't hear them they were for you.
They should have been written for you, not for a man with your name,
We could have talked about our happiness not my past and my pain,
I would have sung your praises again and again,
I prayed for your safety from the tears and the rain.
If you didn't hear my prayers, my shallow words,
Know that I never wanted to see you hurt.
Know that I loved you and trusted you to,
If you couldn't hear my words, they were for you.
I am not the mistress of the words,
They fly round my mind as butterflies do, yet I am unable to capture the ones with the prettiest wings.
I drag them down uneven roads with potholes in,
And they follow me mockingly.
But I will say this to my master of words.
My words in the future may be vile and cold,
Talk of tears and days of old.
But hear me now and read the truth,
Those were my words.
Those words were for you.