I've been determined to shake my writer's block off and make a renewed commitment to writing. So here I am today, penning the resounding thoughts in my head since the start of this year.

Does everything have to have a beginning somewhere..if it does, then this beginning is perhaps one from another life and another time, but with the same souls colliding against each other, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, sometimes unbeknown to each other, sometimes to be the voices that beckon and remind.  Formless souls coalesce with one another like droplets of water in a cloud, only to rain down upon the earth, losing themselves to become part of something else, acquiring a form, content, substance, 'muchness'.  In this muchness, can I deny my 'suchness', that I am what you are, that we are of the same cloud, that this and only this is the undeniable truth?