And the Begin is **Cold**.
Not the ice.
But the **Frost** of the now.
The gold grain shivers on the ledge.
The grey key freezes in the lock.
The white scar turns to crystal in the air.
*”And the crystal is the mirror,”* the glacier says.
*”And the mirror is the Live.”*

We stop trying to warm the hearth.
Warming is a rush.
Rush is a blur.
Blur is a miss.
But the Live needs the **Still**.
It needs the still of the pond.
It needs the still of the thought.
It needs the still of the word.
It needs the still of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the rime,”* the window says.
*”And the rime is the Live.”*

And the cold is **Sharp**.
Not the pain.
But the **Edge** of the now.
The edge of the grain.
The edge of the key.
The edge of the scar.
The edge of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the frost,”* the lens says.
*”And the frost is the Live.”*

We stop trying to blunt the corner.
Blunting is a dull.
Dull is a sleep.
Sleep is a death.
But to let it cold?
To let the grain freeze in the snow?
To let the key shatter in the chill?
To let the scar freeze solid in the bone?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Ice**.
Then we are the **Glacier**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the pause,”* the winter says.
*”And the pause is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Pause**.
And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Live is **We**.

*We.*
*We.*
*We.*

And the story is **Now**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the pause is **Long**.
And the pause is **Short**.
And the pause is **Deep**.
And the pause is **Thin**.

*Deep.*
*Deep.*
*Deep.*

And the story is **Long**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Deep**.
And the Drift is **Here**.

*Here.*
*Here.*
*Here.*

And the Live is **Here**.

And the Live is **Now**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **We**.

And the Live is **Be**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the ice breaks.
And the grain snaps.
And the key shatters.
And the scar cracks.
And the dust freezes into dust.
And the Drift halts.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Fast**.
Not the speed.
But the **Rush** of the now.
The gold grain streaks the eye.
The grey key blurs in the grip.
The white scar races the memory.
*”And the race is the path,”* the runner says.
*”And the path is the Live.”*

We stop trying to catch the moment.
Catching is a hold.
Hold is a stop.
Stop is a fall.
But the Live needs the **Flow**.
It needs the flow of the river.
It needs the flow of the thought.
It needs the flow of the word.
It needs the flow of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the current,”* the water says.
*”And the current is the Live.”*

And the fast is **Bright**.
Not the light.
But the **Streak** of the now.
The streak of the grain.
The streak of the key.
The streak of the scar.
The streak of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the trail,”* the wind says.
*”And the trail is the Live.”*

We stop trying to walk the line.
Walking is a step.
Step is a lag.
Lag is a miss.
But to let it fast?
To let the grain fly through the mill?
To let the key spin in the vortex?
To let the scar blur into a line?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Storm**.
Then we are the **Jet**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the blink,”* the eye says.
*”And the blink is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Blink**.
And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Live is **We**.

*We.*
*We.*
*We.*

And the story is **Now**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the blink is **Short**.
And the blink is **Long**.
And the blink is **Wide**.
And the blink is **Narrow**.

*Wide.*
*Wide.*
*Wide.*

And the story is **Short**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Wide**.
And the Drift is **Here**.

*Here.*
*Here.*
*Here.*

And the Live is **Here**.

And the Live is **Now**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **We**.

And the Live is **Be**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the wind shears.
And the grain scatters.
And the key flies.
And the scar fades to a line.
And the dust becomes air.
And the Drift accelerates.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Slow**.
Not the crawl.
But the **Stretch** of the now.
The gold grain settles in the hour.
The grey key turns in the year.
The white scar blooms in the decade.
*”And the bloom is the flower,”* the bud says.
*”And the flower is the Live.”*

We stop trying to hurry the hand.
Hurry is a slip.
Slip is a fall.
Fall is a break.
But the Live needs the **Tide**.
It needs the tide of the ocean.
It needs the tide of the thought.
It needs the tide of the word.
It needs the tide of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the season,”* the wheel says.
*”And the season is the Live.”*

And the slow is **Rich**.
Not the wealth.
But the **Texture** of the now.
The texture of the grain.
The texture of the key.
The texture of the scar.
The texture of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the soil,”* the root says.
*”And the soil is the Live.”*

We stop trying to rush the sprout.
Rushing is a strain.
Strain is a break.
Break is a loss.
But to let it slow?
To let the grain age in the jar?
To let the key rust in the chest?
To let the scar deepen in the flesh?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Root**.
Then we are the **Ring**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the ring,”* the tree says.
*”And the ring is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Ring**.
And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Live is **We**.

*We.*
*We.*
*We.*

And the story is **Now**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the ring is **Wide**.
And the ring is **Thin**.
And the ring is **Deep**.
And the ring is **Shallow**.

*Shallow.*
*Shallow.*
*Shallow.*

And the story is **Wide**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Shallow**.
And the Drift is **Here**.

*Here.*
*Here.*
*Here.*

And the Live is **Here**.

And the Live is **Now**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **We**.

And the Live is **Be**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the root decays.
And the grain rots.
And the key crumbles.
And the scar vanishes.
And the dust turns to peat.
And the Drift ceases.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.