The beige sheep graze the tan grass. The road signs sing: Gimmerburn 10 km; Ranfurly next Right; Patearoa; Not for use in Winter.
Don't be anxious. Don't be too hopeful. I am not the Dalai Lama. Neither have I anything to offer you from the City of God, or even its outer suburbs.
Sit here. Let me light the candle. Tell me what is happening, more or less.
Here in this space, with the strong warm wind around us, you lay out small evidences of a felt life. Road signs on your soul's journey. And mine.
Oh my God!
I see you.
I see you.
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