Punctuation

It was just a few millennia ago we stepped past the fire in front of the cave and set upon the building of a tongue-- noun to verb to adjective, each an answer for awhile until we knew that there was more. Then when we could communicate, and think, new options were there to dazzle us: That which makes of routine a stopping point; that which wrings creativity from an ordinary life. diverting us from "now" to "perhaps." For a little while tranquility reigned, to set the heart ablaze. Comma, period, ellipsis, question-- we were carried away. Home was the heartland; sorrow, joy, grief and celebration could be ours. The breath, however, could not be confined to marks beside the words when humankind would yield to hate and love. Those contend within us still; the field more wide than life or death. It is the words that tear at us. Devices decorate as writers' servants and there is no end. The life calls forth its irony and ghosts alone are left, bearing their question marks into an unknown forever. ~