Good Glory it's almost morning!

The sun is 'bout to rise, y'all. Tomorrow. Morning. Day one. First day birth day new day. Hmm. Dawn. So this morning I'm thinking about resolve, the whole new years thing. Thinking about Pënz and about the wild reality that this project hasn't even started officially yet each new day so far it brings a ridiculous load of blessings and gifts.

There's a crack in the earth that's saying "yes". "Yes!" There's a quaking under the feet, and the subsequent feeling of slight instability. The thing about the sun is that it's so damned bright it burns the eyes. After a while, a body is afraid to look up. Afraid of the weight and implication of every bit of goodness and blessing. Each correct step feels a bit off even. Correct? Right? Good? I must be going the wrong way, get the map.

Ah, but no. Nyet. Nah, B. In that burning is strength, power. It's hot to hold to remind us. When Ana's Drum says to her Poem, "But, haven't you killed?" it's a reminder, an accountability for the power we can't act like doesn't exist because that's far too irresponsible. Ya got the sun in your hand, kid, Ouch says, whatchu gon' do?