Never Ending

Lately I've held this thought in my hands:

Nothing is ever truly completed, and nothing ever really ends.


Even in the afterlife. Things go on...forever.

Nothing is ever cut cleanly and finished.

There are always bits and pieces, flotsam and jetsam left over, caught in the ebb and flow of time.


Art is like life in that way.

You have to know when to let go.

When to step away.

Even though nothing's ever finished.


I think that's part of what has bothered me for so much of my life.

I want a definite end to things.

I want ties severed, completely, so completely they might never have existed.

I want round numbers (even ones).

I want the jagged edges buffed smooth.


Life has not given me what I want.

But maybe if we had a world of definite endings, there wouldn't be hope.

The hope that things circle, come back around.

That the ending really isn't The End after all.