I have begun my freedom and it hurts. Time opens out, so I can see its end as the black rock of Mecca up ahead. I have cut loose from my bases of support and my beasts and burdens are ready, but I pace back and forth across my right of way, shouting, "Take off! Move out in force!", but nothing moves. I wait for a following storm to blast me out of here because to go there freely is suicide! Let the wind bear my responsibility.