To my fellow poet John Donne, I write to inform thee of ye superb composition aptly titled "Meditation XVII." Ideas coming from only deep thought, with thy apparent knowledge of the number of people who fathom daily, gives thee right to call it a meditation. In thy account, ye dictates of a spiritual calling God yarns for thee, solely revealing itself through series of hardships and troubles. Even though they are all close and sincere to thee, thy addiction to all things sweet is apparent. True meaning doth come whence thy soul doth separate from these things. Yes, true revelation draws nearer when depth and advancement of ye heart and soul transcends thy things. For truth is the wind that can violently gust away all ye earthly treasures, yet bear a gentle breeze of blessings, in either case not knowing for what reason.

Addressing that although one carries differences in terms of character, spiritual purposes are intertwined with one another. Bring this only through a loss of the breath of life, a connection of self and deceased materialize in terms of ye spirit. Loss of experiences and forgotten memories, valued and held dear by one become none -- - absent and dispersed. Loss of understanding and growth doth follow and haunt thee, ringing a bell noting so. Yet, as ye say, is God's own version, "bind[ing] up all our scattered leaves" (11) so that maybe one may read the newly edited literature that "lie open to one another" (12). Reading line-by-line, truth approaches thee upon insight of obscurities and pieces of good fortune shall spiritual awareness sprout.

However, for one man's death or "one chapter torn out of the book, but translated into a better language" (9) depends on the soul browsing the chapter. Absence of similar experiences and knowledge pertaining to serves no encroachment to the spirit, just as the yield and quality of the fruit depends exclusively on the pollination of a bee. Thy enlightenment did please my soul, for thy comprehension of values aforementioned signifies understanding in a meek two dwelling on this rock. One can only encourage the continuation of thee deep ideals and theories and hope whoever reads thy own chapters can follow what thy heart and spirit desires. Sincerely, George Herbert.