Dawn comes, yet I hide in my dwelling, in its deepest rooms. Let not the day begin, I cry.
Wherefore comes this terror?
The sun continues its inexorable rise and warms the ground. I will eventually walk into the meadow carrying my burdens, no matter these waking thoughts of trouble.
My fate is always the same: awaken, walk your paths, draw nearer to you. Why, then, do I wallow in this fear?
Let me, Lord, set to walking. Shine on me and warm my limbs.
(Letter #1,696)
