Heavenletters

This is what, where I live, we would call "strong tobacco". I'm holding my breath while reading it. The words are spoken as if from deep within myself. I recognize them as my own. God is speaking my words and I know that's not hubris. How, then, ist it possible that I still feel separated? Your are out of time and mind and so am I, how can I still feel not included in Your love? Why am I still an illusionist, larking around, believing in my own tricks? Why does not illusion simply lift like the mist it always was? Understanding and yet not understanding makes me feel very very stupid and lost, dear God. A prisoner where there are no bars – that's exactly right. I almost envy prisoners behind real bars. At least they can imagine they know their situation. I can't.

But Your words, trailing Your love, are so inexpressibly beautiful. I count on that beauty. I have come to count on beauty alone, not meaning, not content, not consistency, not truth, not significance, not intelligibility.