Thursday, December 19, 2019

I am a bird, jumping from branch to branch, never long enough to rest nor to build.

Lord, make me the branches. Let the birds come and go, my thoughts and worries, while I abide with you, the oak, the roots.

Yet O! I flit, erasing each moment with its new child.

Let me grasp you, stay, rest, remain.

(Letter #1,804)