Tuesday, December 20, 2022

The one who is weighed down by selfish ways;

The one gripped with fear over being found out;

The one indolent, sitting idle —

These are my loves. These are me. Let honey drip from heaven’s boughs to soothe the hurt and misery littered all around me.

How did I come here? Let my own past become another’s hope.

(Letter #2,751)