Photo: Eagle Nebula: 24 October 2008 via Wikimedia Commons.
It is the most perfect clarity of the sun. Like cotton candy it disappears once I taste it on the tongue. That’s not how this begins, but I can’t begin. I am in the middle of a story that has already begun.
.
And so it is like stepping into a river, never to enter the same spot twice, and I try for a third time today to find the words that escape by grasp; my hands are open, palms down. And it is in this position that the storms build, electric waves of shock, and they build and the hold until they are released with the tiny tapping of fingertips.
.
And the tips they do tap as they do type and they find the rhythm of the key strokes but my mind…no dice. And I wonder if I could write without thinking, just listen to the keys tap tap away and simply compose my prose accordingly but, no, this sentence takes too much thought so I continue then, slowly, to find my point.
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