The First Raindrops

I feel the need to welcome myself to the realm of beginnings

Where the air is as pure as the purest linen sheet,

Where there is a view of an infinite white field of quiet feelings.

Every step I take draws a melody on the floor,

The sound of my breath is translated into a stream of colour.

My thoughts, heavy with ink, start dripping all over the landscape.

And the white field is not white anymore.

Now, every beginning ends with a raindrop.

Yes, a raindrop marks the beginning of the end.

The end of the whiteness inside your mind;

The exercise of creation that begins.

So,

Begin.