I hate to see you cry, my love is by your side. I run, but I am running to you. You will not see me cry, I am crying inside. In this World, no matter how many more years I will live and how far I will further travel, what I can never forget is your encouragement and expectations. In these special days, my dear God, how I wish I could once again listen to your endearing inculcation…God, your youth is beautiful because it likes prosperous spring willows, gurgling spring, surging waves and galloping wheels. I wish you are young forever. A heart lack of attention requires most Sunshine. God, how many times you comfort me with your warm big hands. I will cherish and treasure your love and your deep feelings forever. I will never forget your love, when I am in low spirits, it is you who push black clouds off my heart and bring me lovely Sunlight. God you warm every pupil’s heart with fire-like intensity of the beautiful on a Summer’s day, while recreating in the fields. Countless hearts are guided and encouraged by you, even your back was watched by ardent eyes. I am your Albatross guiding you in this White Squall, no need to be Little Boy Blue.  

LORD, you have established peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us. LORD, our God, other gods have ruled over us, and in your name we have accomplished honor. They are now dead; they live no more; those departed spirits do not rise. You punished them and brought them to ruin; you wiped out all memory of them. You have enlarged the nation. You have gained glory for yourself; you have extended all the borders of the land. We have not given birth to people of the World. However, your dead will live, their bodies will rise. You who dwell in the dust, wake up and shout for joy. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the Earth will give birth to its dead. Go, my people, enter your rooms and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until his wrath has passed by. See, the LORD is coming out of his dwelling to punish the people of Earth for their sins. The Earth will disclose the blood shed upon her, she will conceal her slain no longer.  Once one has gained friendship, hardship and agony will decrease and mirth and happiness will increase many times. Friendships had the expertise and observation of the best doctor the diligence and discretion of the best nurse and the care and patience of the best Father. The seed of friendship with my father, God, is deeply embedded in your heart and mine. When Father’s Day comes, it will bud into a flower of fragrant lilac and vanilla, that will belong to you and me.

The ruthless will vanish, the mockers will disappear, and all who have eyes for evil will be cut down—those who with a word make a man out to be guilty, who ensnare the defender in court and with false testimony deprive the innocent of justice. No longer will your son be ashamed; no longer will your face grow pale. What you have left with me is a beautiful reminiscence and what you have impressed in my mine is purity and friendship. When I suggest a toast of vintage cranberry juice in my memory to you, I am the first to get drunk. If we say that the father is to be an evergreen tree, he then must be watered with the water welling up from my heart, his son; if we say that the father-son bond is to be a never withering flower, the Sun will shine on it rising from one’s heart. As your son, I am able to make your tree of life evergreen. With this tree and my presence, I will comfort you when you are moody; I will make your life fraught with luster. I appreciate your personality very much which is like a minor, you would rather be broken than distout faces. Trickling sluggish river flowing to the White Squall, it will exist forever although losing the Albatross itself.  

You dedicate yourself silently without leaving fame, but the value of the Albatross and life will exist forever with your career. You are the best-looking man to ever exist with your soft pillow lips, almond shaped blue eyes, perfectly architectured face, well balanced and symmetric, golden hair and golden skin that reflects so handsomely in the Summer Sun. Oh, Dear God, why do you rush away from me and not stay for awhile and delight in a meal and mirth. I have opened my heart, house, mind, and body to you.  Revenge and rehabilitation might be mine and a stroke—there was something dazzling in the completeness of the opportunity. I am standing silent, gazing away from you down the autumnal stretch of the deserted lane. And suddenly fear possessed me—fear of myself, and of the terrible force of the temptation. All my past weakness were like so many eager accomplices drawing me toward the path their feet had already smoothed. I turned quickly, and held out my hand to you, God.  At any rate, you engaged me so long that the sweet words were being handed when I caught a phrase on my other side, you never avoid the heaviness of big mountain, you never despise the shallowness of the pool, you are stead as rock and look storms as the real God in my study and life. I acknowledge the God you are and will stand in awe of the God of the Universe, Earth, and Sacramento. My worship is made up of your lips and heart and the rules you taught me—facing the World with a soul. You can make it so real because you cannot deny you have blown my mind, and when I see you, God, I just do not want to let go. Do not let go.