I wake each morning like a janitor of meaning, pushing a quiet…

Greg Unger

I wake each morning like a janitor of meaning, pushing a quiet broom through the clutter of fear, doubt, and small inherited lies. I don’t pretend I can stop the storms or rewrite gravity, but I can light a candle and move it from hand to hand so the dark has to keep negotiating…

A members’ writing from The Anthology — this is an honest preview. Read the full piece on The Book of Unger.