Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Sunrise, solitude on a mountain ledge, apart. Visions were delivered in the night. The vista hums with energy.

Lord, I will walk down to the village and there meet my fellows. In my time away, the chores remained undone and the garden became choked with weeds. As I greet my neighbors, will I be proud of my visions, or ashamed of my shirking?

Let me be close to you without the need for dizzying heights and fasting. You were next to me all along, and I could have found you with my spade in hand.

(Letter #2,096)