O pity to the held back, the weighed down, the blocked. They struggle and strain, yet do not find what they seek.
Do I not fret and press against the walls of the box canyon? Am I the one weighed down?
As I lay upon the ground, I felt buoyed, as if I could float away. And yet when I rise from here, I carry my old friend, woe.
Let me stop seeking; let me see what I have found already.
(Letter #3,799)
Daily Letters to God 