Dear Thoms, Dear reader, My dear Lord in Heaven,



I taste the bitter night of tears, their trail gleams a path softly over my face, heading downward, downward... so much like my hope, a trail of pain... to follow, once again, a well worn trail, one I thought I had learned to dhun and take heed the warning after--ever flowing downward, as my face falls, eyes downcast and full of shame... and swollne with more tears, tears! agin! Oh Lord, I cannot bear up under this kingd of revisiting without You--hold me tight, and don't let me go while I shiver in the dark, alone, quaking in my heart, that all too famliar tempest, heart that had believed it had leaned to shun the shadows and that wanted to dance with you in the Sonlihght of the kind of lve that transcends all... the dance of the SoI could never be enough with out You LOrd to still the temppest within our hearst...thr combines tragedies that interplay among our hopes and fears.