One evening my mind was buzzing over and I couldn't sleep. This is normally my good writing time, but when I got the pad of paper I couldn't focus on what I was trying to do at the time. Instead a wry thought passed my mind 'Can I write a full page of text, of and keeping pace with my thoughts?'

And this is the result.

A Page Full of Text

This'll never be an explanation. Never a full comprehensive explanation of who, why, what, how or any question properly thought and posed to me or else, yet the folly of such an undertaking is but not folly whence underpinned with an aim. So take these words where you will, reader. I am honest to myself with every one I write as my pen flows at the time my thoughts also flow freest, a time when I contemplate the deepest darkest and most difficult of things, using a learned mind to form decisions on the world, people and universe around me. Not individuals for the most part bar the few whom my subconscious itches over, and all of them only once; but the community and society, the effect of each upon each other, trying to see all sides of a story, not merely black and white, but every possible shade of grey and the lie of the fence and it's friends. Arguments that should not be, will not be and forever are follow 'pon the other, played out and replayed to every end and continuum to which is and may be possible. A full page of text is the mind in writing and writing of our dreams our thoughts and flows.

Always be able to write your mind.