Tuesday, September 14, 2021

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)