My Lord, I have come seeking You in the reflection cast by cypress over a still pond. I breathe the calm night in, and while my lips are moved to form the sound of Your many Names, the fowl announce Your arrival, like a round of trumpets. And then the wind blows, and the breath catches in my lungs. I can not speak, for You, my Lord, are here.
You command me to give over my worry and my fear, and my pain and my love, and joy and pleasure and freedom. I do not know why this is so, only that it must be. You are my Everything, and thus shall I be Your instrument.
As I place myself into Your rightful care, I am hopeful for the compassion I have long known, however, I am aware of the spark needed by You. I know what triggers are meant to create the spark that lights the blaze. And so, I seek compassion, as futile as it might seem. My humanity knows no other way than hope.
Now, the air becomes still, silencing the melodic breeze. I hold my breath. My Lord, You radiate a stable heat, one which I can not function without, one which covers me now, in the night, standing above a still pond.
— Columbine [Day 6]