In the desert, after 40 days.
In the night I awoke. Was this my own voice reciting what was written? “‘And every secret thing shall be opened, and every dark place illuminated.'”
Dear God, no, do not let them know this, do not let them know the great accumulation of all this, this agony and joy, this misery, this solace, this reaching, this gouging pain, this…

But they will know, each and every one of them will know. They will know because what you are remembering is what has happened to each and everyone of them. Did you think this was more or less for you? Did you think –?
And when they are called to account, when they stand naked before God and every incident and utterance is laid bare — you will know all of it with each and every one of them!
I knelt in the sand.
Is this possible, Lord, to be with each of them when he or she comes to know? To be there for every single cry of anguish? For the grief-stricken remembrance of every incomplete joy?
Oh, Lord, God, what is judgement and how can it be, if I cannot bear to be with all of them for every ugly word, every harsh and desperate cry, for every gesture examined, for every deed explored to its roots? And I saw the deeds, the deeds of my own life, the smallest, most trivial things, I saw them suddenly in their seed and sprout and with their groping branches; I saw them growing, intertwining with other deeds, and those deeds come to form a thicket and a woodland and a great roving wilderness that dwarfed the world as we hold it in our minds. Dear God, next to this, this endless spawning of deed from deed and word from word and thought from thought — the world is nothing. Every single soul is a world!
I sobbed aloud. I will. O Father in Heaven, I am reaching to You with hands of flesh and blood. I am longing for You in Your perfection with this heart that is imperfection! And I reach up for You with what is decaying before my very eyes, and I stare at  Your stars from within the prison of this body, but this is not my prison, this is my Will. This is your Will.
I collapsed weeping.
And I will go down, down with every single one of them into the depth of Sheol, into the private darkness, into the anguish exposed for all eyes and for your eyes, into the fear, into the fire which is the heat of every mind. I will be with them, every solitary one of them. I am one of them! And I am Your Son! I am your only begotten Son! And driven here by Your Spirit, I cry because I cannot do anything but grasp it, grasp it as I cannot contain it in this flesh-and-blood mind, and by Your leave I cry.
I cried. I cried and I cried. “Lord, give me this little while that I may cry, for I’ve heard that tears accomplish much….”
(181-182)