In the beginning

So this is how it all starts, in the end, with a sentence on a page, with time betraying itself all too readily. That’s the way of the thing, really, that's how things go. You can't escape the finality of progression, not in words, anyway. It defines us, gives us our history.

Different art forms have different limitations. Most art is confined to only showing a moment. Not so with words. Words have the opposite problem; they can't help but show the passage of time, as the reader moves across the page.

But never mind that. That is for later. Now it’s time for other things.

I feel I should explain myself, but somehow I don’t think I should. I have done it so many times before. Always explain your purpose, at the beginning, and then lose it as things progress. I believe it has been my original purpose that has always held back my work from evolving into what it could be.

So many things begun and so very few finished. That’s time for you, again. It turns enjoyment into routine and adventures into chores.

So I will leave things undefined. I will see where natural progression takes me. I aim to set no aim and to allow myself the freedom to do what I will within the restraints of the public domain.

Sometimes it’s just good to write and let this be the place where I write it.

Unexplained and unfettered.