Thursday, September 16, 2021

I row.

Whether I live in a world of acclaim or derision, you have placed me in this boat and I hold these oars.

Let me pull smoothly and strong, let my movements be not frantic, nor create churning water. A tighter grip will not improve our progress.

Who else could steer this vessel? I know these waters.

I was made for a time such as this. Let me row.

(Letter #2,441)