You've approached my table again. For what? Set it down on my table, that desire, that longing,

that you keep returning to. Even after you let it go, you pick it back up, you put it down,

you pick it back up, you give it to me, you take it back. You don't trust me with it.

You don't trust me, but I forgive you.

And you must forgive you.

Everything in your life in that world shows you that you can't trust, that you should

not trust.

But grace is with you.

My hand is upon you.

I'm giving you something bigger than what your mind has been so preoccupied with,

with what you've been striving for, with what you've tried to not want anymore. What you want is

bigger than you. It's not just meant for you. It's meant for the world, but it must come through

you, but it can only come through that

body when you remember who you are, what you are. And there will be moments today, tomorrow.

In this coming week, the same moment that looks like today, tomorrow, and next week, this

unfolding eternity where you remember. And that remembrance sounds like silence it feels like relief

it feels like duh that i am that you're aware of is me and i have it in my hands which means you have it

in your hands but you don't see it yet.

You fill it with your heart.

You fill it with your eyes, staring straight ahead, not blinking, hearing it,

the essence of it, forming it.

It's right here on the table.

...