A parable of half starts and full stops.

Period.
The end of an era when I stepped out into the rain.
Turned up the collars to the wind,
and turned a corner off the road of momentous occasions.
This alley had two dumpsters
one filled with forgotten plans and stratagems
the other with unnecessary regrets.
I closed my eyes and there the sun smiled through the slats.
Period.
The rounded edges were frayed in the most intricate manner.
What once was claustrophobic now abounded in infinite possibility,
and I pulled back the curtains further, and raised the blinds higher,
till the council of trees filled my vision
and my mind with the voices of a thousand whispering leaves.
Period.