If the spirit’s sleeping then the flesh is ink.
History’s page will be neatly carved in stone,
The future’s here, we are it, we are on our own.
—The Grateful Dead, “Throwing Stones”
(This has been my favorite song since I was old enough to know what music is—and I’ve never posted anything related to it before. I’m super nervous about the whole post. I hope the meaning comes across.)