To let go...to release one's grip,
Not hold on anymore,
Walk away,
Rip it off,
Break it...
Though it cannot be undone.
The point is...it was done,
It occurred, or it happened!

What was, was
What is, is
What is to be, will be!

What we were, we were
What we are, we are
What we will be...well...if we are to be, will be!

To let go is not easy.
It could be, but...
It also could not!

We could let it be,
Whatever that may be,
However it is to be!

'To let go requires the now.
What was done requires to let go now.
Let go now what was done,
Also requires to let be what will be!

To let go and let it be is part of the process of being,
It requires the now.

To let it go...
And let it be...

Past. Present. Future.
The one that stands above these is the present.

The present allows us to look to the past for lessons for the future.
The present is the best present!

The present! The gift!

She is moon queen of the darkest night.
She makes unicorns in the moonlight.

He is ruler of both dark and light.
He uses dragons breath when he has to fight.
He turns it into an angels hum.
Beautiful whispers for her ear drum.
*** pum pum pum.

In the dry desert sun.
They are devine.
Two of one kind.
Together they can scribble outside the lines.


-Jennifer DeAngelo
Copyrighted 2016

117

In rags mysterious as these
The shining Courtiers go—
Veiling the purple, and the plumes—
Veiling the ermine so.

Smiling, as they request an alms—
At some imposing door!
Smiling when we walk barefoot
Upon their golden floor!

The layman will ask…
  always questioning what

The poet observes…
  always adding a why

The universe inhales
  within the difference

And with each ensuing breath,
—new verse begins

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

Out of the night that covers me,
  Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
  For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
  I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
  My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
  Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
  Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
  How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
  I am the captain of my soul.