Sentences

Some sentences are are short in life.

Some sentences are egregiously, monotonously, atonally... long (in life).

A sentence that I've been penning for the last two decades finally has been concluded.

Not with this: !

Or this: ?

Or even my favorite, this: ...

I've ended the sentence with a quiet, but very meaningful "." .

Period. Is there anything that, when pressed upon a piece of paper, has anymore finality?

No.

Presently, my life finds me in that gap between sentences. It feels like I am jumping over a void, from the period I have placed to a new letter, a new beginning.

The sensation that churns in me is something akin to dropping, but more exciting. It is a rising fall that is electric.

"What's carrying me over the gap?" I wonder. As I reflect in this blank space, I'm hoping for a bold, capital letter. I want something big that I can shout to the world.