Dear God, I sit in this small room tucked away from the coming day. I hear the whisper of the fan, I feel my back rest against the wall, I feel my seat press upwards into my flesh. Here I am. Here you are, too.
Yet already I set my thoughts to hours and even days later. This same body will be there when tomorrow arrives and becomes today. This same self. Why do I behave, then, as if you will not be with me? You are here now, in this room.
Thoughts of tomorrow, of later, take me away from this room and my presence before you. The only place I am truly a part from you is in my imaginings. Why do I pursue them so? My planning and worry poison my soul.
Lord, let me dwell with you. Let me be here with you, in mind equally as in body.