Two years ago I lived in Raleigh, North Carolina.

I spent most of my time working and distracting myself.

One thing I would do before and sometimes after work

was stop by the Cameron Village Library.

In the library, on the second floor, there was a fishbowl

of poems. I would take one each time on my way out.

And for a long period of time I truly found each poem

very applicable to my day and life at the time. As if they

were deliberately handpicked for me.

Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Walt Whitman, Alduous Huxley, etc

Sometimes those were the only things getting me through my day there.

I created such a dull position for myself at the time.

But that is what I asked for, it's what I wanted.

It was all good to experience.

Anyways... I visited around New Years this year

so I stopped by the library. Poems still sit on the long wooden

desk on the second floor. Even the same persons at the desk, everything the same

except the mention of not seeing me for a while.

It is weird working in a place where people cycle through

revolving door like. Developing a sort of a unspoken relationship.

More dependable than most other relationships. And (almost) always pleasant.

Be it for the reason that one of the parties is being paid to be pleasant with you

or that they simply desired to be.

Anyways... what I was getting to was that I picked out

another poem and I found it quite perfect at the time.

Crossing The Bar

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

when I put out to sea,

But suck a tide as moving seems asleep,

too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

Thankyou sir lord a.t.