
Morning walk before dawn. Cliff side path and switchbacks. Narrow track, steep drop. Ahead a turning, the trail disappears left, valley below.
A glow from around the corner. Is it your light reaching me, Lord? A candle on a flat rock?
A fallen limb blocks my way. Turn back, climb over? Is this a test to overcome, or warning to heed?
The light, is it indeed a blaze?
Lord, let me listen when you say no. Your love comes often in the form of protection.
Walking home, sun higher now, let me tell my fellows of what I saw.
(Letter #2,770)
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