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The day has arrived, a child is born, the umbilical cord was never severed. Now feet begin swimming around mother's womb, not lost with translation, but still caught between the cord of time and space perplexions. A season to cry, a season to laugh, a season to live and a season to pass, all sit down and lift their cups in celebration. An Omer voice counts out loud, dressed in sackcloth, water wells never dry, an eternal resolve driven by unchanging conditions. A sunset cloud brings about a sunset ash, traveling across the sandy winds of time, a mourning dust blows about, a morning dust blows past; once a valley of bones, now scattered across the great continental divide. Faith is the ability to believe in that which the eyes have such a hard time with. Life is full of uncertainties and we are connected, with our actions that have a ripple effect, creating sounds waves traveling across the geographic temperatures of the plains and boundaries that we exist upon. As our faith grows stronger, we can find peace knowing, no matter what happens, we will be able to find our way through it and overcome it. As faith grows, so too shall the day grow in strength, to a variety of hues, populated by saturated brightness, making it easier to find our way through the dark patches of the day.