To my most dear and highly esteemed brother, Radu, beloved in the sight of the Lord: Cornel, an unworthy servant of Jesus Christ, a worm, less than a being sends his greetings.

Silence surrounds me in currents. Swirls, curls, swims along in lazy Lissajou curves. Silence surrounds me. Holy they call me; holy or crazy.

Clothed in silence and robes, wreathed in holy light, they say that, each day, I walk down to the river, dip a single cupped paw within, and drinking that would be my sustenance for the day. They say that I talk with the insects, coaxing ants into a dance and urging the cicadas to sing praises to the Lord. They say that I never cease praying.

Some of these are even true. Clothed in silence and robes, I begin my day by walking to the river and drinking from my paw. It is not my only sustenance, for I fish and collect the tender roots of young reeds or perhaps some cress. I even purchase the occasional bundle of dried meat.

I do not coax any insects, but I do talk to them. Not *with* them; none but the Lord could do that. I listen to the cicadas rasping through the heat of the day, close my eyes to shut out at least one sense, and lift my stubby ears to listen to the words of the world. Even the crickets could carry the voice of God.

There are no lies in the last.
