A beginning is a very difficult time . . .

. . . full of passion, pleasure and potential, ultimately doomed to be less than it was. We can reach and clutch but soon momentum ends, and drags, and pulls furious discord from the sky by the handful. Saddened and sore we put away the instruments of our creative arts and lament the passing of potential into the dark spaces. We remember these times at their best, but never return them home. Whining and mewling we shrink back and say, "Good bye." Into sperate spaces we move, until at last we are gone, and perhaps, if we are blessed, when we are gone the beginning will remain.