Thursday, August 1, 2019

Anticipating even the smallest acts generates fear. I sit, immobile, hoping nothing will happen.

Hoping for nothing, nothing comes. The day is stagnant. Will I thus call hiding from the light success?

Even the one sitting still acts nonetheless. Lord, let me go out into this day without pause.

Let my hands set to work, my feet walk, my mouth speak.

Let me not hide from the sunlight.

(Letter #1,664)