Sometimes the Craft Are Metaphors.

Not all of them blink.
Not all of them move.
Some just sit there — lit up — waiting for you to notice.

Sound familiar?

I used to think I was chasing proof.
Now I know I’m chasing permission.
To remember what I already knew.
To write what no one else dares to.
To laugh, even in the holy moments.

Tonight’s sky reminded me:
The watcher is also the watched.
And maybe that’s the point.

📎 More from the field soon. The logs are stacking.
This is only the beginning.