There’s no clear start.

No clean finish.

Only entry points.

I join.

I step in where something is already moving.

I contribute.

I move something forward.

Then it keeps going.

With me.

Without me.

That part used to bother me.

I wanted cleaner edges.

A beginning I could point to.

An ending I could claim.

Something finished.

Something done.

That’s rarely been my experience.

Most of life has me entering

what was already in motion.

A conversation.

A system.

A relationship.

A problem.

A possibility.

I arrive mid-stream.

I leave mid-stream.

That’s the classy problem.

I want to hold things like they begin or end with me.

They don’t.

I am a part of something moving.

That is mid-stream.