Saturday, September 25, 2021

What if all is as I fear? What if all is calamity? What if there is rot behind the veneer?

O Lord, you have me in your arms, you are my ground upon which to stand. Here I rest with you, while the world may crumble.

These fever dreams, Lord, my gnawing fears. Reality is solid. It is me with you.

Let us amble through the fire, Lord, the cool flames cannot harm. Me with you.

(Letter #2,450)