It was a resurrection year. There were bags under my eyes. There were the burdens of my sins. There were those dangling, pointy things. There were women on the verge of drawing me in. It was a perplexity year. A year of scattered projects and loose associations. There were self-righteous Bible believers quieting our Bible scandals and polishing their Bible-sandals. There were over-wealthy hippy-chicks shouting at our tail-pipes. And the tail-pipes… they coughed out filthy gasses. And the hippy-chicks... they took enlightened classes. It was a year of shrinking barriers, and I was peeking over the top. I was peering around the side. I was dancing in the light. And in that light there were immigrants trying to come back to the land their ancestors owned. Like scattered tenants returning to their homes. It was a resurrection year, and now ascension is near.