These days, most moved by that which holds luminous beyond the constructs we still find ourselves amidst. The ineffable holiness of sky, of gentle formations of water refracting light as cloud, as ancestor. The languages running just beneath the surface of it all. The river beneath our feet, in our blood, on our breath. Quiet enough, empty enough, to touch the buried temples tucked deep inside bone’s marrow. The scriptures of inherited neurological patterns. The posture of heart’s rhythm. Studying these languages with commitment, with dilligence, sources of truth to be uncovered. Gratification to the forces that be.