Oh, how I see the world running on the road to perdition! Oh, what so tremendous pain, pain that is impossible to explain! To be a mother, mother who loves without having the corresponding love, and to see humanity escape me; all my dear children die. Die in the vices, in the pleasures, in the follies of sin. They mad for joy, and I mad with love for them, to save them!
The light I own penetrates everything and everyone. The light is not mine nor is for me, but with it I see the greatest disorders and miseries. This light sees everything that goes on land and feel that itself wants to rebel against the same land. Its rays cannot face the slime and disgusting mud that earth contains.
The tower (see here) that arose in me is going up, up, goes to heaven. I feel that goes so high, but its eyes do not reach its aim. It goes up and, as upshot, with it rises the light; and from above sees the world, enlightens the world, over it spreads its rays, rays that try to climb to itself because they cannot think of the world.
I wished to say so much about this light, wanted to make me understood and do not know.
And now, poor me, I am in complete and total abandonment; I have nobody for me either on earth or in Heaven. It's what I feel, but I trust that is not reality.
Sentiments of the Soul, March 20, 1945