It's an experience.
Like all good epics we begin in medias res,
Genre undefined, not yet.
We're a problematic poem.
The meter is relentless and eclectic,
Finish off that line! Our iambs, trochees and dactyls become more S-
Pondaaaic. That is to say we s s-
lurr when we Finis-
shh h h h h that drink!
I feel a premature catharsis coming on.
It's a pastoral longing for the idyllic "I
WANT TO GO
We've discovered our fatal
flaw. Hamartia leads to anagnorisis,
But not til morning.
the new characters
from the old and
This isn't a denouement.
We're just establishing rhythmic consistency.
We're just seeing the brighter imagery.
We're just finding the right words.
We're just invoking our muse.
We're just writing our first verse.
We've not even started the first canto.
This is just a prologue.