The Words of Beatific Anguish

Where does it all go? My words. I mean, everytime I speak it is as if they go through outer space. Into nothing. But there is something so special about it that I still can't grab. Something different than just telling someone about my struggle. It is as if everything is forgoten as I say it, in love, in peace, and in grace. No judge appears in the crime scene as it usually happens. Something about expressing my feelings in this way is so special. Something, unique. There is something so unusual of my words being said this way, but what is it? What could it be? My gentle words of joyful pain go into the heavens. They land in protective, noble hands. My desperate words of soothness go out into the perfect hands of a Daddy. One who is faultless. The words of beatific anguish have been welcomed by the perfectible Master, by The Father.