Oh to sit and epistolize what has afflated my soul. It is quite possible it may come off as babelism, but how can one not utter what has brought to one such astir? I am beamish at the very cogitation that after such an extensive period of time, a ballast has been instilled to keep me constant. Like an Ambit fixed True North, I find that more freedom is given when I stay the course.
One path traveled afresh, the journey of forgiveness. Seventy times seven. Four hundred and ninety, three thousand four hundred and thirty. Incalculable. How can one so coolly offer such grace to what or who we see as undeserving? I in my own fortitude cannot. Would not. By Divine intervention could I release such resentment.
The grapnel that encased my heart for so long, has been pryed apart, tossed to the sea and crushed by the waves. My ship has left the moor, the sails have been raised and a strong Wind carries me towards the Island of Blessing. The Island where pure treasure is yet to be discovered.
I anticipate the life of a sojourner and keep my sight fixed on what lies before me. On towards the sparkling waters that touch the crimson sun in the evenings and strain to embrace all the glory during the day. The adventure has only just begun.
-Amaris I.©
