Excerpt From a Birthday Card

You are walking through the forest, all the trees are dead.
Even the wind is silent.
There is a solitary burnt stump, on which you sit.
The cold moon is distant, cloaked in shadow.
A tear glistens on your eye.
Another year spent on weightless endeavors.

The First

So, I have this blog now. It doesn't have a specific focus or mission statement, per se. May it not perish for such lack of vision.

I'm a little more than hesitant about writing on here, especially if it has to do with...anything. The reason: commitment. Once I post something, there it is, be it enriching or degrading.