Welcoming Techniques, Pt. I: Repeated Struggle
Silence Calls the Storm
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The sun never rises on this plot of land The abject poverty of light through which we finesse the rote of our daily work makes us inept in some ways On this patch of soil we ritually fail at distinguishing the scarce specks of gratitude and goodwill that trickle down from above Yet some of our other senses are enhanced It is in the duress of this daily rote, as it seems to stretch out the passing time, that we became able to hear To hear a whisper from around our tiny world that assures us in a warmth that could only have come from the sun and its ilk - A greater drawn whose meaning we built ourselves through repeated struggle In this minute vastness we need only bask in the quiet assurance the harmonious whisper imparts -
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