and with the rising of the sun what little gumption burns away like desert dew, or melting ice, my will, again, begins to fade to where - once more - I stumble here, my thoughts ensnared, my joy, replaced; cratered. hopeless. flat, on my back - the clear stream turbid, muddy, dazed. oh ye of little faith, stay still, the minor miracles shall come our blessings, and our pleasures too rejoice, in this bright day, rejoice!