Before I ever cry out, or beat my chest in woe, you know of my troubles.
Before I beg for relief, my belly in knots, you know of my fears.
Before I fall to my knees and ask forgiveness, you know of my trespass and remorse.
Why, then, do I perform displays of submission? Let me give thanks that you are already removing stones from my path.
(Letter #2,097)
