Saturday, January 22, 2022

Walking across the high plains, windswept. A bug on a plate. You see me, Lord. All see me.

This is the straight path you promised when earlier I cried out for relief from crooked ways. That time seems so long ago, tucked away in my chambers, warm yet shivering in remorse.

Even now so exposed, naked, let me walk with spine erect, for you are yet with me. This is no ordeal but your loving answer to my prayers.

I give thanks.

(Letter #2,569)