Altars are places we go to worship and generate feelings of closeness to God — feelings of connection and peace. A place where we can dream there is a place outside us that reminds us of something inside us that is truth. We should go I think. But I’m half hearted. How nice it would be to sit quietly and listen to some greater power instill in me an understanding of that aspect of me that seeks and strives to know what I am, where I came from, who put me here.  Some answers.  Yet I would dismiss the truth, for I cannot really imagine truth.  It moves me when I am ready to hear it.  The missing link in a chain of wondering beads I continuously pass from one touch of my first, second and third fingers of my right hand each day, on this iPad, now like a modern rosary, as I kneel, trying to see what these eyes can’t. I know not what I see. For I have yet to choose seeing. Who, or what, might help me with these incessant, ever present concerns? So far I think only within the tangled web I haven woven to feed on the darkness I made.  But there is one who has all the answers I will ever seek: you. With your power we will let down the veil over the real altar I have hidden for so long. Eons of made up, and wasted, time. When Love was there, as He always is, for me to see, or not to see, as I choose. This altar, now born to these tired eyes, is in you. He placed it there for me to worship, as I sit in stillness, in awe, as I now know Him, in you and in me. All loving thoughts are true. There are no questions now.

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