Thursday, March 11, 2021

I speak, and uncomprehending faces look back at me.

I fulfill duties, and worry I will be found shirking.

I describe the path to the river, and the wrong way is taken.

Lord, I thought I was doing your will. Why, then, am I so ineffective? The rain washes away my footsteps, the wind blows my voice into the empty valley, unheard.

To live and never to have been here, Lord, is that your lesson? Let me live love without the need to be in memory.

(Letter #2,252)