I stand on a plain, exposed, upright. Let my back be firm, my eye single.
A maelstrom blows around me. Let my feet be rooted. Let my mind be unmoved.
The storms are my thoughts of tomorrow, my plans and clockworks. Thinking of what might be, I lose my mooring.
Let me attend to this day. Lord, let today crowd out tomorrow.
The wind whips, yet let me stand still with you, my dear sturdy Friend.
(Letter #2,691)
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