as will you & I at dawn and dusk [a poem]

Maybe I was beautiful Once,┬ábehind the dust veil Lace dancing on the light Blessing the space our souls danced In the ballroom between our lips. I look over my shoulder at you, demure smile Mystery learned from your secret-keeping ways Will it hurt you to count the others that have waltzed here since you left…

How much of the future is in our hands?

Left with too much time to think (don’t get me wrong – I am loving what has become my five-day weekend, thank you, school district), I often revisit this question. Some days, I feel utterly in charge, like my mind is finally swinging in tandem with the universe’s energies and I was born for nothing…