Wednesday, June 16, 2021

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)