The pages are twins of the air;
cold and thin.
My mind does not comprehend the
nouns and verbs scattered across the many pages. The wind and I take turns flipping
from one to the other.
The clouds shield the burning sun
from the earth.
Careless thoughts are my company
though work should fill my priority. A chill runs from my spine, down my limbs,
to the tips of my ears. The first thing I have felt since the beginning.
Slowly I lift my fingers, staring
at the tips. I wiggle them and finally I feel them. My head turns as if a
wooden toy who’s come to life, stiff and confused. The chill has awoken something.
Within me there is a beating like
that of an African drum. Harder and louder the thumping goes on. The friction
of this beating seems to generate a friction for the chills and the cold are
replaced with a heat that begins to spread like a vine throughout my body.
I can feel my heart again.
The newness is rejuvenating.
Before was the beginning, then I found myself stuck in this eternal middle, now
I’ve been jolted from there to a now that is a new now called a
new beginning.
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