Tuesday, April 6, 2021

An open field, a blue sky, a lone tree. Even at noon there is a shadow. The brighter the sun, the darker that small bit of meadow.

O perversity, there is where my focus falls. I peer and peer, unable to discern the blades of grass. Crestfallen at such blindness, I retire at night a failure.

And all along, the sun shone upon my neck and lit the way for the multitudes who passed by, wondering at me on hands and knees.

Lord, loosen my gaze that I may see again.

(Letter #2,278)