The sun peers over the mountains. What does it see?
A waiting valley, in it a village, in it a dwelling, inside a lone figure looking out the window at the sun.
I pine for you, Lord. Do you gaze upon me with the same love?
Let me leave these rooms and feel the sun, your gaze, on my limbs. I was made for this time.
(Letter #3,793)
Daily Letters to God 