Let Us Go Then, You and I

LET us go then, you and I, 

When the evening is spread out against the sky 

Like a patient etherized upon a table; 

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, 

The muttering retreats 

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels 

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: 

Streets that follow like a tedious argument 

Of insidious intent 

To lead you to an overwhelming question…. 

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” 

Let us go and make our visit.

And indeed there will be time 

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, 

Rubbing its back upon the window panes; 

There will be time, there will be time 

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; 

There will be time to murder and create, 

And time for all the works and days of hands 

That lift and drop a question on your plate; 

Time for you and time for me, 

And time yet for a hundred indecisions, 

And for a hundred visions and revisions, 

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

- From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

Two weeks left,

and my heart skips beats

anticipating what is still here 

and what is yet to come,

and my stomach crumbles upon itself

reminding me that I am helpless 

in so many ways,

and my mind fails me;

my body fails me,

and I must lean on those around me,

resting on community,

and laughter,

and late nights,

and reflection,

and intention, 

walking ever deeper into myself 

and into all.