The day is early; I hear birdsong. Is it already too late to seek you? Woe cascades upon woe in my thoughts and I scarcely noticed the scent of the earth.
Try as I might, as a race to be the dawn, I cannot outrun these vexations.
Could it be that the way to peace is to quit running?
Let me unclench my jaw, Lord, and let me start now.
(Letter #2,349)
