Tuesday, July 7, 2020

There was a great battle last night; a storm raged. Yet this morning, the sun rose over the plain.

An earthquake swallowed a village, yet again in the morning: the sun.

Winds whip, and smashed trees, yet the hills remain.

Lord, you are steadfast, a rock underneath the world, the sun that rises each day without fail.

Let me look past the events of the hour and feel you underfoot, feel you shining upon me.

(Letter #2,005)