Friday, May 14, 2021

I speak a tongue foreign from my fellows.

I value that which has been cast away.

War is waged, while I prepare a bed for sleeping.

O Lord, can I be a mistake? Could you have made me so alien out of carelessness? Are my trials an afterthought?

Sitting side-by-side, you whisper love in my ear. The revolution will need soldiers. The orchard must start with buried seeds.

I am ready, Lord.

(Letter #2,316)