This page looks so empty, this blog so wordless, as if the person in care of its keeping forgot its existence. Look at it sitting here waiting on its creator to punctuate into place a pronunciation of choice to bring to life an idea where once nothing was. Look at it. Wishfully waiting on the curator of its being to put into place a golden moment of sentences where the blank page is no longer bare of any thought that would in a moment transform a calendar's day into a written haven of imaginative words where for an idea, maybe two, something needed to be wrote from the deep recesses of a writer's hands to illuminate the dullness of, as usual, no honorable mention. This page looks so empty and of course maybe it is but I assure you not from lack of idea nor from lack of practice. It is so because much to the contrary it has became a bookmark for the continuation of another writing that has in its own right grown with, through and from the many items found here among the other pages. So while a passer by might find days missing among the writing another place holds all the days in between. And rightfully so. For when one is in position to make right its fair thinking it should never be shunned. It should hold its own precedent in proper order so that the writing is sustained adequately to keep true its own form. This blog looked so empty. Weeks of writing unkept which has now been corrected for the need of itself. True to its own form. A small jot from its nurturer to keep it alive, growing, as part of its own being as an extension of all other ideas. Together the two of us slaying the blank boredom that remains to this day our little space in time. Be well little blog.
