Prelude to a Parting, by Maya Angelou

[My Postlude]

Beside you, prone, 

my naked skin finds 

fault in touching.

Yet it is you

who draws away.

The tacit fact is:

the awful fear of losing

is not enough to cause

a fleeing love

to stay.

If—

BY RUDYARD KIPLING 

 ..." If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a [woman], my [daughter]!"

Voodoo

Stars align
Moon song
Rain patter
What is this
Energy
Heart song
Heart throb
Wind
Storm
Spring
New leaves

Water flow
Coursing, tumbling, gushing

Rushing
Running
Racing

Surging through my center?

The titans' clash of Hope's defeat over Despair.

The usuallies

Watching the blue sky, today I caught myself singing out loud today and smiled. And 

it’s ok. It’s ok. Usually … my usually… is changing. 

Usually… isn’t my normal. 

Because you’re usual isn’t mine, yet I morph and 

watch you while I float through the air on the ski lift 

and look out and people watch and learn 

and slowly but surely make up my mind. 

So usually I might… but now I frequently… 

and although they regularly…, I habitually … 

and somehow he generally… now I often…  

and we commonly… 

and the usuallies ordinarily go on, for now, together.