Sunday, November 29, 2020

Behind this rock, we are in a small pool of calm. The wind blows on the other side.

I am pinned through my fear of the gale. Any move will take me out of the shadow.

Is it a storm or sunshine? Is the wind illusion? The rock?

Let me walk upright through the morning, Lord. Make me willing to be seen.

(Letter #2,150)