I believe, Lord. Yet, attached as I am to the world, I worry over my fate and that of those I love. We are children in a sandbox, digging castles.
While I fret over the state of my body, my spirit walks with you among high mountain passes. The view exhilarates. I am a stag.
These high peaks are a new reality. Make me ready to roam, Lord.
(Letter #2,439)
