Since Minecraft changed the way light works, there's been an incredible amount of glitches close to sunrise. In fact, there's been an incredible amount of glitching overall, but it peaks as the sun does.
The glitch is: no matter how deep you are in the mines, no matter if you've holed yourself into bedrock and broken every torch and covered the earth above your head, you will see the sun. Not the whole sun, no, but if you stir, the sunrise will peep in shattered fragments between the edges where the blocks meet until you go still again. If you move you will see the sun. If you are moving, breathing, or living at all, you will see the sun.
It's distracting, sure. It's strange. But it's so wholly Minecraft I hope they never fix it. Creepers, Herobrine, the Farlands-- they all happened on accident. They still exist in-game, in art, or will lurk at the end of bug fixing logs forever. They're symbols of Minecraft itself, proof of the human-ness that lives in every line of code. They're part of the game about being human that so famously states:
"A fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player,
and the universe said I love you because you are love."
Player, you. You. You are the thing the sun shines for, the thing the sun keeps safe, the thing the sun is relentless in its search for, tearing through the earth to shine on, reaching the darkest and deepest spaces of the world to find, and as long as you breathe, you, player, you, will see it. Regardless of whether it's intentional or inadvertent, the universe will always, always find a way to reach you. Why?
Because the Player was the universe, and the Player was love.
Wake up as the sun hits your eyes. Wake up as it streams through the windows or between the atoms and pixels of the earth itself.
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