Live my day as if there was no past...

He closed his eyes and began to weave a story. He abandoned the familiar threads he'd played so many times before and went in search of something new, no longer wanting a journey fed on pain or guilt. He needed one that could replace those wounds with strength, with resolve, with confidence. He needed a tale that could heal and build anew. The words warbled and fell, haphazard, chaotic, settling without flight. His forehead creased, yet he persisted. He let his fingers wander on their own, reached out with his mind. He chased the fleeting story he'd glimpsed once before. In his dreams he'd felt a hint of it: something wild, untamable, a thing sprung whole and flawless from the instant of creation.