raze | renew | erode
How often do we weigh the first sentence of a story with its counterpart that closes it?
Is its ending not as continuous as its beginning; is its beginning not as continuous as its ending?
I wonder whether our perception of endings does them justice.
There is an equal amount of excitement and trepidation when we talk about beginning. The age old adages of the limitless possibilities and simultaneous crushing endlessness of the blank page, the blank canvas, the blank stage are continuous. But what of endings?
A beginning is an end.
A beginning marks the departure of what was, contiguous with endings.
Two Koi swimming effortlessly towards and away from one another.
Asking us to remember:
Remember endings are continuous.
A new day marks the end of its predecessor
Zero insistence that they need be twins
Entrenched to joined fates.
Remember beginnings are continuous.
Even in silence there is sound when we stop to
Notice the gentle touch of the
Earth’s whisper as she says