Broken Fences

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Spending life on a broken fence between past and present-tense, I sometimes feel as though I wasted my youth in the constant hope that my life was about to start.  The undeniable sense that momentum is a ceaseless engine driving me into oblivion is – to say the very least a real bummer.
I spent the first seven years of my adulthood on a completely different set of dreams (music) than those I covet today. It is not that any aspiration I once had is now somehow invalid – quite to the contrary.  I am still and will always be a musician,  I just have traveled that road as far as it will take me in that way.
In the end, this is where my decisions and circumstances have placed me sitting on a broken fence between past and present-tense. That is perhaps the best place to be as a writer – a dreamer with no sense of urgency looking to the horizon with one eye in my rear-view.
So,  today I decided to tackle the part of my novel that has not been dealt with yet – the beginning. I only managed a few sentences; the first few of which I will share with you good folks.

All begins in void. A void as empty as a dreamless sleep – one with everything and nothing all at once. Just as that vast and vacant void consumes all things so does its opposite, and it is into that place that he found himself as he escaped the void  that enveloped him.
He woke, but not the way one does from slumber, but the way one comes to life

Keep on shining you lights in the darkness.

7 thoughts on “Broken Fences

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