Beginning is fog. Close your eyes.
Feel the mist settle on your skin.
Unfeel and listen only: wind and softness;
in the distance cacophony rumbles.
Unlisten and inhale the scent of wet earth
at your core, under foot, around you.
Beginning is awake, existing on air
lightspeed memories breaking in.
When you feel nothing remarkable at all,
nothing but Attic salt to throw over your shoulder,
this gets you nowhere but makes you late
for nothing again.
Dew point quivers.