I have not beheld a sunrise for a considerable amount of time, perhaps to be counted in years. I’m inclined not to characterize this as an incompleteness, treating this, too, to the phrasing of consumerism, but to note how something this fundamental can be placed behind. The wait has given this morning a force. Like Indian music structures itself around the unity of the universe and time, the ritual of light, life and cycle, memory joins me to my own life and through sight to the notation of eternity as it is taken down in our quarter in the universe. The sun is heard as it affects.