Monday, December 12, 2022

I awaken to trouble, of what does it consist? Worry, fear — are these things real?

Look with care at this dwelling: its roof and walls hold. There is food to break fast.

Look at the village: there are fellows who know me and I them. There is help available to dig the well.

My troubles are fiction, I confuse reality with mood.

Grant me vision of reality today, Lord.

(Letter #2,743)